


In an Endless Night (I’ll Dream For The Both Of Us)

by oceans4jinyoung



Series: When The Dust Settles [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Prequel, Prostitution, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceans4jinyoung/pseuds/oceans4jinyoung
Summary: Jupiter's life in the neon metropolis of Nova City was simple, sheltered, until he meets a pleasure android working in the apartment above him and becomes immediately captivated.  Their meeting charts an unthinkable sequence of events that ends up bonding them in ways that can't be computed.
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Im Jaebum | JB
Series: When The Dust Settles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077632
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	1. it was all metallic rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Jaebeom and Bambam's names have been changed for this universe.

It was all metallic rain. Falling so hard that every inch of iron and steel was ringing like some somber instrument being struck in an untraceable melody. And as Jupiter leaned out the doorway of the diner’s kitchen, peering up at the blackened, starless sky that hung above the alleyway, he could smell the acid in the downpour. And he wondered what rain smelled like before Nova City went black with smog. Before the city was even a city. 

“Is that order ready?”

He turned back, squinting maladjusted eyes into the fluorescent lights and seeing his mother leaning into the kitchen. “Sorry,” he said, hastening to the griddle.

Above their heads, they heard it. A dull thud, a shout, footsteps, more banging.

“Jeez,” his mom grimaced up at the ceiling. “They’re at it again.”

“God,” Jupiter scoffed. “And why are they always so loud? It’s a karaoke place, not a wrestling ring.” He sniffed, catching the faint whiff of burnt eggs. He looked down, gasping as he scooped up the sizzling omelet with his spatula and transferred it onto a plate. “Here,” he grabbed at the receipt hanging overhead. “Order thirty nine. Peppers, onions, and...” he squinted his eyes, “Cream cheese?” He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Is he-”

His mother smirked. “He’s here,” she sing-songed, beckoning to the plate in his hand. “Take that to him. Say hello if you want. But be quick about it.”

Jupiter clumsily pulled off his apron, balling it up and tossing it somewhere out of sight. He bypassed her, going out to the small diner. He scanned the scattering of usual patrons until he saw someone sipping a coffee at one of the vinyl tables. A middle-aged man with wide hunched shoulders, dark hair, tanned skin. A rarity in the sunless city. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the smoggy night that blacked out the sky. A tactical green jacket with holes dotted across his back and arms, exposing a red shirt below. Long ago, he’d told Jupiter they were from laser fire, but his mom had rolled her eyes and said it was just a bad joke.

“Great Shot!” he called out, rushing up to the table.

“Kid,” the man rasped, standing up. “Come here.”

Jupiter rushed to put the plate on the table before embracing him with both arms. Feeling that tan in his skin that seemed to radiate warmth, an entrapment of a sun that Jupiter had never felt for himself. He smelled like tire rubber and sand. Something entirely foreign, nothing like the city at all.

“Goodness gracious,” he chuckled, pulling away to look him up and down over the top of his aviators. “You’re getting huge. Your mom needs to stop feeding you all those Lark Industries lab eggs.”

He laughed, “As if there is anything else to eat.”

“Well, she still makes the best damn meal in this awful city,” he shrugged. “And she still knows my order after all these years.”

“We could never forget you, Great Shot,” Jupiter urged. “Please. Sit. Eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” the man groaned, taking his seat. He started cutting into his omelet, shoveling down the food like it had been days.

Jupiter watched him, mystified by the small details that he never got to see in the passing faces of the Battery District locals. The creases near his eyes that were deep set, tough like leather. The yellow of his nails, his teeth. The scruffy layer of facial hair. It all felt so fascinatingly different than the humdrum of neon buzzing, plastically perfect people, endless night. And Jupiter’s chest ached with how much he’d missed him.

“So,” Jupiter said, playing absentmindedly with a pepper shaker on the table. “How’s the Dust?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Great Shot smirked, cheeks full of food as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “When it rains in Nova City-”

“It’s blowing in the Dust,” Jupiter said, with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You sound like my mother,” he scoffed. “What would she even know about what happens in the Dust?”

“More than you might think,” he said, pointing the end of his butter knife at him. “She’s been listening to her patrons’ stories a lot longer than you have.”

Jupiter was already bored at the mention of her. The woman who had raised him in that run-down diner. Who never spent a day of her life outside of her own district, let alone Nova City itself. Who kept Jupiter close, out of school, away from trouble, chained to that diner with her. Until his only escape was through the Dust roughened patrons that cycled through. Their stories and gifts like a peek into another world, another life. One he knew he’d never have. 

Jupiter leaned both of his elbows onto the table. “What did you bring me this time?”

“Why do you assume I brought you anything?” the man said, reaching for his mug and downing the rest of his coffee. “Aren’t you getting a little old for gifts?”

Jupiter’s smile fell, eyes glazing over with disappointment.

Great Shot smiled. “I’m messing with you,” he laughed. “Of course, I brought you something.” He sat back, reaching into the pocket of his coat. “Another one for your collection,” he said, flipping a scratched up plastic CD case between his fingers and handing it over. 

Jupiter’s eyes widened into saucers, snatching it. “Major,” he gasped, drawing it close to his face. The album had a bright purple hue, four men with overgrown hair that hung in their eyes. Tight white t-shirts and flared blue denim, an aesthetic that was so glaringly Gas Ages. “The Great Auks?” he squinted, reading it. “I haven’t heard of them.”

“Well, trust me,” the man smiled, pushing his sunglasses up his nose bridge. “You’ll like it. It’s just your favorite shade of loud.”

Jupiter looked up, beaming, “Thank you.”

“Jupiter!” his mother called from the back of the restaurant. “There’s a whole stack of delivery drone orders waiting in the kitchen for you. Let Great Shot and I catch up.”

He looked back, meeting the man’s eyes again. He held up the CD. “I’ll go listen to it now,” he nodded. “While I work.”

The man just huffed, smirking. “Do as your mom says, kid,” he nodded. “I’ll see you next time I blow in.”

Jupiter waved, returning to the kitchen and pulling his apron back over his head. He looked up at the row of orders that had piled up in his absence, time stamped with when the delivery drones would be there to pick them up and whisk them away to their customers. Overhead, he heard another loud thud emanate from the karaoke place above. He glared at it before standing on his tiptoes and reaching for the top shelf. He felt around blindly until his fingers brushed against a pair of headphones. He pulled them down, his portable CD player coming down with it. 

He pulled on the headphones, replaced the disk with the one Great Shot had given him, and hit play. The screen blanked for a moment in some kind of error. He groaned, knocking it against the heel of his hand until it started to whir. Brash punk music started to play through the headphones. Clashing guitars and crashing drums. Guttural singing in some accent he’d never heard in the city before. He nodded along to the beat as he slipped the player into the pocket of his apron, cracked his knuckles, and began cooking.

The CD played out three times before he was done for the night. Sending off the last delivery drone as his mother closed out the register. He closed the kitchen down, scrubbed the griddle, mopped the floors. Never quite sure if the black water he wrung out was egg-soaked grease or polluted ash.

His mother waved her hand in front of his face.

Jupiter pulled down his headphones around his neck.

“Take out the trash and you’re done,” she said. “I’ll mop the front of house.”

“Mom,” he softened. “You don’t have to. I can do it.”

She shook her head. “You had a long night. You’re a growing boy. You need the rest.”

Jupiter was about to protest. A diatribe about how he was an adult, about his mother’s bad back, resting just beyond his lips. But he held onto it. Knowing that he was still her baby. And not having the heart to take that away from her.

“Okay,” he conceded with a sigh. “Just don’t go to bed too late. You need to rest, too.”

“I will,” she nodded. “Just go.”

He readied the trash, throwing it over his shoulder and braving the now drizzling rain. He walked himself down the alleyway towards the cans when a sound had him stopping in his tracks.

It was soft, almost negligible under the sound of the rain against the steel. And perhaps it shouldn’t have even registered considering Jupiter had been blasting his ears out with punk music all night long, but regardless, he caught onto the faint sound of crying. 

His eyes tried to follow the noise up, hearing the way it echoed off the brick walls and the steel fire escapes. He tried to place where it was coming from, looking to the windows on the second floor that were radiating bright purple and blue light. Against the blackened silhouette in the foreground, a pair of legs kicked out over the edge. 

Jupiter backed up, trying to catch an upward glance. “Hello?” he called, squinting his eyes against the neon light.

The crying stopped. Giving way to silence, stillness.

Jupiter’s eyes adjusted more. Seeing the light bounce off shiny, silver hair and high cheekbones. Glinting bare shoulders and shiny pants. The outline of a boy sat, feet dangling. Chin tucked against his wrist, folded over the metal bars. Eyes cast downward. And despite the blackness of the silhouette, Jupiter could see the glow of two silver eyes staring back. Feeling like high beams that pierced right through him.

“Hi,” the boy said. Voice so clear, it was almost like he hadn’t been crying at all.

Jupiter blinked. “What are you doing up there?” he asked.

“I live here.”

And it didn’t seem right. Because Jupiter had always lived in this building. He knew everyone. From the patrolling cop pocketing gang money when he thought no one was watching to the pill pushers peddling stronger and stronger doses every year. And the second floor karaoke place with the flashing sign that drew a variety of people every night had one singular owner. A balding man who spit when he walked and never smiled. Jupiter had never seen a kid there at all. And he’d been watching people come and go for years. He shook his head, “I’ve never seen you before.”

The boy’s shoulders shrugged, the smallest glint of a smirk reflecting against his cheek, “I don’t get out much.”

Jupiter felt a pang of sadness. Because he knew what that was like. He too didn’t get out much. He tossed the trash into one of the cans. “I have some sodas in our fridge. Stuff you can’t get in the city. If you come down here, we can drink. We can talk,” he offered.

The boy shook his head, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He held up his ankle. And in the light, Jupiter could catch the clunky black strap around it. The glinting red light that pulsed. Some kind of monitor. “I can’t leave.”

Jupiter’s heart sank even lower. “Wow,” he huffed. “And I thought my mom was strict. Your parents sound awful.”

The boy was silent for a moment. “I don’t have parents,” he admitted, making it sound like a confession.

Jupiter’s face tightened at one side. “Why not?”

The boy shrugged. “Just don’t.”

Jupiter stared up at him. Feeling equal amounts pity and intrigue as the boy just kept staring down at him. Something in his luminous eyes unyielding, unblinking. Fueling only more unfounded intrigue. He smoothed his hands down the front of his apron. “I’m coming up,” he called, finding the ladder and pulling it down with a loud metallic screech. He let his hands and sneakers find the rungs, rusted and jagged from the acidic rain.

He crawled up onto the second floor escape, met only with the same sharp stare of the boy’s eyes. And as he came forward, he looked closer. The light from the windows illuminating him more from this angle. He wasn’t as young as he seemed from far away, but instead, an adult. He was wearing a fishnet tank, despite the chill of the evening rain, and shiny black vinyl pants that disappeared into chunky platform boots. His eyes were a bright silver that Jupiter assumed was one of the trendy mods all the university students had been doing in other districts. And his skin had a near luminescente sheen, poreless and even in the glowing light. Every silver hair laying smooth despite the humidity. Looking placed, designed, perfected.

Jupiter didn’t fully catch on until he looked to his right shoulder, catching onto the smattering of wires that protruded from where one of his arms should have been.

“Woah,” Jupiter breathed. He came closer, unable to look away. “You’re a-”

“Android? Bot? Synthetic? Abomination? Take your pick, I’ve heard them all,” he smirked, not losing any of the brightness in his features. “What does your family call us?”

Jupiter stopped short, shoulders falling. That intrigue flooding out and leaving only pity. “Slave.”

And maybe it was just a trick of the light, but the android’s smile seemed to falter. If only for a moment. He looked away, back down to the alleyway. “You know,” he started. “The humans I’ve met notice what I am from an average distance of twelve point three feet. You didn’t until four point six.” He looked over, smirking, “You’re shifting my average.”

Jupiter felt awkward, not sure how to react. Still processing his realization. “I’m sorry.”

The android huffed. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It’s… refreshing perhaps. To have an outlier.”

Jupiter’s feet carried him a few steps forward. “I’ve just never seen a…” his words trailed off, unsure what name to say. “At least, not from this close.”

The android’s brow crinkled. “How can that be? You must have had a nanny model. Or had a commuter bot drive your taxi. I mean there are androids all over schools these days.”

Jupiter’s hand flew to the back of his neck, trying to smooth down the damp hair there. “My mother never sent me to school. I help her run the diner on the ground floor.”

“Oh,” his face brightened. “Then, you’re more of an outlier than I thought.”

Jupiter stood there, feeling awkward under his unblinking stare. “Can I sit with you?” he said, pointing to the spot next to him on the fire escape.

He shook his head, “You don’t have to ask an android for permission.”

He shrugged, mouth going tight. “I just did.”

The silver in the android’s eyes seemed to shine. Not from the light above but from something within. “Have a seat,” he said, softer.

Jupiter sat down, letting his legs hang over the edge. “So,” he started, looking over. From so close, he could see the lines between the plates in the android’s cheek, temple, down his neck. The slightest of gaps that made them move smoothly. “What kind of android are you?”

He huffed, looking down into his lap, smiling widening before his gray eyes drew back up to Jupiter’s face, “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Why would I?”

“Most boys do by the time they’re your age,” he said. “My prediction is twenty-three when comparing the breadth of your shoulders, twenty-one inches across, to the average young male.” 

Jupiter sat up a little straighter, at first wondering how he’d even known that before looking at his eyes and seeing the slightest dilation of his pupils. Except, he thought, it wasn’t dilation at all. It was widening, like a camera aperture. And something about it had him feeling exposed in a way he hadn’t before. “I’m eighteen, actually.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Eighteen year olds are a different breed. I see them come in. Finally free to leave the Glass District on their own. High on prescriptions they bought with their parents’ money. Carrying Lark Industries textbooks in their bags,” he laughed. “They love to act tough,” he said. “But I can sense how nervous they are.” He tilted his head with a hiss of his teeth, “First time with an android. I assume it could be intimidating.”

“First time?” Jupiter’s brows drew together, confused. He looked to the blue and purple windows behind them. “At the karaoke place?”

The android laughed, loud and genuine. “You really believe that?”

Jupiter stared at him, wide eyed and not catching on.

The android held that smile. Leaning closer. Whispering like it was a secret between them, “I'm a pleasure model.”

Jupiter’s mouth fell open. Words failing him as he tried to think. He’d only heard about pleasure models in passing from the patrons of the diner. Only from piecing together lewd wisecracks murmured out the sides of mouths. From the way his mother would roll her eyes with a sigh and refuse to explain.

“Maybe you’re not so different,” the android said, eyes panning down to Jupiter’s chest and widening slightly. “Heart rate increase of twenty-seven percent.”

Jupiter’s hand smoothed over his chest, feeling the quickened pace beneath, “How can you-”

“Millimeter-wave spread-spectrum radar technology.”

“That feels…” he winced. “Invasive.”

“Welcome to the Glass Age,” the android sighed. “Nothing belongs to anyone now. You humans are all just data points. There’s an algorithm to predict everything about you from your heartbeat to your next purchase. And I’m the one who gets them all locked up inside here,” he tapped a finger against the seam at his temple. He leaned in, bringing his face closer. “Because everything that makes up me was based on who you are and what you want me to be.”

Jupiter looked at him, getting caught up in the brightness of his smile, the wild way that it went all the way up to his gleaming eyes. And it was hard to remember that he wasn’t human. When everything in his expression felt so real. Lifelike and vivid. But Jupiter guessed that was the point. “What’s your name?” he asked.

It must have caught the android off guard, because his smile dulled. He pulled away his eyes, his whole presence. Shoulders caving together as he looked out over the wet alleyway again. “I don’t have one,” he murmured.

Jupiter blinked. “You must have a name,” he insisted.

“Model 84MX2,” he said. He looked over. “Doesn’t really… what do you humans say? Roll off the tongue?”

“It doesn’t,” Jupiter shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t use it.”

“You’re forgiven,” the android bowed his head. “Usually, clients call me whatever they want. Sam, Stacy, Bitch.” 

Jupiter winced. His empathy reflexing, feeling like a stinging gash against his cheek. “How about…” he thought for a moment. “Eight? For now,” he offered. “Would that be okay?”

The android looked over, aperture eating up the gray for another small moment. He nodded, “It will do.”

“I’m Jupiter,” he said, extending his right hand. He looked to Eight’s right shoulder, seeing the fray of wires still exposed. He substituted his right hand for his left.

Eight looked down to the hand, apprehension creasing his brows. He carefully reached out, shaking it. “Jupiter,” he murmured, stare going glazed in computation. “Fifth planet from the sun. Is your mom a fan of space then?”

“Mythology,” he smiled, pulling away.

Eight’s brows creased deeper, head tilting in confusion.

“Jupiter,” he repeated, shoulders pulling up. “Roman God of the Sky? Of Thunder?”

Eight blinked that glazed look from his eyes. “I’m not familiar.”

He sighed. “Most people aren’t nowadays,” he shrugged. “It’s from way back. Iron Age, my mom said.”

“Iron Age? I don’t have records on anything before Battery Age.”

“Really?”

“I guess they figured it wouldn’t be much use for a pleasure model.”

Jupiter felt that empathy even deeper now, sinking in like the acid rain against his skin and clothes.

“Well,” Eight sighed. “Regardless. It’s a nice name.”

“Thanks,” he said, but the silence still stretched. Both of them looking out and watching the faint rain coating everything. Jupiter passively wondered if Eight was programmed to feel awkwardness. Or was it something totally human in him that felt compelled to fill the void. “So,” he said, kicking his feet against the edge. “Why were you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Eight looked down into his lap, fingers twisting into holes in his tank. “I’ve heard it can help soothe the soul. But I guess that implies that you need a soul,” he smiled, a wisp of breath between his teeth.

“Why do you need soothing?”

Eight didn’t answer quickly, hesitating around the words like they were a calculation that kept returning zero. “My job isn’t as pleasurable as it might be for my clients,” he finally said.

The realization struck Jupiter with a turn of his stomach, sickly and unsettled. Acidic like the rain. “All that noise we hear downstairs,” he whispered. “That’s them hurting you, isn’t it?”

Eight gulped. “I’m an android,” he said, reaching his hand out past the cover of the fire escape, watching in the purple glow as the rain dotted against his skin. “Whether it’s the faintest of drizzles or the throw of a punch, it doesn’t matter,” he said. “We can’t feel physical pain. We can barely feel anything at all.” He looked over, meeting Jupiter’s eyes.

He felt that twist of his stomach too strong. Past the point of empathy and more like a proxy for the pain the android couldn’t feel. “That’s not the only way to hurt a person,” he murmured.

“Well, there you go,” Eight shrugged. “I’m not a person.” That self-deprecating smirk trembled. He looked away, sighing, “The faces can be blurred, blacked out when we plug in every night. The voices can be muffled until we don’t remember the words anymore. But like an echo, it’s all still there in a way.”

“Like a nightmare.”

Eight looked over. “Maybe,” he considered. “I wouldn’t know.”

Jupiter’s eyes cast down to the android’s shoulder, knowing it didn’t hurt, but feeling just as bad. “Is that how that happened?” he asked. “A client?”

“Yeah,” Eight sighed. “Maintenance is coming to take me away and reattach it.”

Jupiter didn’t know what to say. Unsure if words still soothed an android’s mind like they did a human’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he waved him away with a smile. “Afterall, I was made to be mishandled. We 84MX2s break, we get maintenanced, we get tossed back to work to make money for our possessor. It’s the true irony of the model.”

Jupiter’s brows crinkled, thinking of that mean, spitting man who ran what he thought had been the karaoke place. But now, he had a new title for him. Possessor. It was fitting in the worst possible way. He picked at a bit of dried egg yolk on his apron. “If you were made for it, why does it still hurt you?” he asked, looking over. “Why do you have the urge to try crying?”

Eight’s smile faltered again. He licked his lips. “Maybe there’s something faulty in me they haven’t caught onto yet.”

And Jupiter wondered if that was even true. Or if it was normal, for an android to think something was wrong with them. Cause that thought alone felt too human. To think one is special, unique, flawed.

He put away the thought. Grabbed at the headphones around his neck. “You know what I do when I’m hurting?”

“What?”

He pulled the headphones off, reaching them out towards Eight.

The android jerked away, eyes going wide and shoulders going tight. Ready to react.

Jupiter saw the panic in his face. He felt another slash of empathy cut through. “It’s okay,” he soothed.

Eight softened, relaxing.

Jupiter slipped the headphones over his ears, reaching into the pocket of his apron and turning the CD player on. He heard the guttural shouting pound from Eight’s ears.

The android raised a brow as he listened, looking over. “My database doesn’t recognize this.”

Jupiter reached forward, pushing one side of his headphones away. “It’s by a band from the Gas Ages,” he said. “My mom gets customers who come in from the Dust, they smuggle me CDs, comics. Anything they think I’d like.” 

“The Dust?” Eight questioned, eagerly. “Wow. I’ve only heard of it in passing.” 

“It all sounds so amazing,” Jupiter smiled, feeling that dreamy ache in his chest from just the idea of it. “A place where the sky is clear and the horizon is open and anyone can be anything they want.” 

“Do they have androids out there?” Eight asked, a hopeful spark in his eyes.

Jupiter’s smile stiffened. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “No one’s ever mentioned any.”

Eight lost a bit of that spark. Looking away. “Well, I like the music,” he said, pulling the headphones off and handing them back. “It kind of feels like… frantic, doesn’t it?” he laughed, leaning closer to slide the headphones back around Jupiter’s neck.

And he was so close. Close enough that their knees were brushing. Close enough that Jupiter noticed the absence of breath on his face. The way he didn’t smell like anything human. Just metallic rain over candy sweet perfume. His eyes so close that he could look deeper into them, see that subtle contraction of their apertures. The glow of the silver in his irises. Unlike anything he’d ever seen. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Frantic.”

Eight smirked, hand moving down from the headphones to rest against Jupiter’s chest. “Much like your heart rate right now.”

He drew in a breath. “Sorry,” he shook himself, pulling away. “Your eyes are just...”

“Do they make you uncomfortable?” Eight said, furrowing his brows. “I can change them.” He blinked. And just like that, his eyes shifted to a shade of dark brown. A mimicry of something more human.

Jupiter shook his head. “No, no,” he sputtered. “I just-I like them. The way they are. Were. Without you having to change them.” He swallowed. “They’re like,” he thought for a moment. “...a stormy sky. At least how I imagine one might be without all the smog.”

Eight blinked, eyes going gray again. “No one’s ever complimented them before.”

Jupiter felt the space between them weakening. Static electricity trying to balance itself between their brushing knees, like a subtle jolt Jupiter could feel everywhere. And he was struggling to understand where the feeling of it ended and his own butterflies started. Where the line between technology and humanity resided between them. 

He shrugged, “Then, maybe I am the outlier.”

Eight’s smile spread across his sculpted face. Just as bright as his eyes. “It’s nearly midnight,” he said, out of nowhere. Reading some internal clock. He stood up, towering on his platform boots. “Maintenance should be coming for me in a few minutes.”

Jupiter looked up at him. “Oh,” he scrambled to his feet. Noting the way Eight still exceeded his height. Not used to feeling dwarfed. Something about it feeling like that brush of electricity again. “Okay,” he nodded. “Well… Take care.” He waved, backing away towards the ladder.

“You too, Jupiter,” Eight sat down on the open sill of his window, heaving one boot over to straddle the ledge. “Maybe next time we see each other, I’ll be all in one piece.” He smiled, lifting his empty shoulder.

Jupiter nodded, “I hope so.”


	2. drenched in fantasy.

Drenched in fantasy, Jupiter found his mind wandering in the days that followed that rainy night. Whether he was turning over eggs in the kitchen or turning the sun-bleached pages of a gifted comic in bed. And when he’d lie awake at night, hearing the banging overhead emanating from Eight’s room, it was no longer annoying, frustrating. But concerning. Sickening. Even knowing that Eight didn’t feel pain. Even then. 

Why then?

The Dust-soaked patrons still filtered in and out of the restaurant like always. And Jupiter would still greet them with just as bright a smile as the times before. But when the dinner crowd would thin as the clock would near midnight, when small talk would cede to silence, he found new ways to fill it. New curiosities.

“I have a question,” he said, wiping down tables one night. “About the Dust.”

Mad Kat was a blonde who had been raised outside the city. A loud talker, a louder dresser. A self-proclaimed addict of the diner’s custard. “Shoot,” she scooped up a bite into her mouth. Metal against tooth enamel.

Jupiter focused his eyes away, trying to look busy, disinterested. “Are there… androids out there?”

“Shinies?” she raised her eyebrow, tapping her spoon at her chin. “Hm,” she hummed. “Can’t say I’ve ever come across any.”

Jupiter felt drawn to her table, leaning himself on the edge. “Why not?”

She shrugged, “The Dust isn’t like Nova City. There’s not a lot there. Not a lot for miles around. But what it is has been built up by tough, hard-working people. And we’ve never really needed shinies to do that.”

Jupiter toyed with the damp rag in his hand. Thinking as Mad Kat gritted that spoon against her teeth again. Leaning in a little closer. “Is it possible though?” he asked, his voice low. “Could an android live out there?”

She sighed, throwing her spoon down on her plate with a clatter and leaning back in her chair. Crossing her arms over her chest with the whine of purple leather against purple leather. “We talking a Sonata Lark shiny or something more recent?” she flipped her razor cut bangs from her face, tone too blunt.

Jupiter’s mind spun, “Who?”

“Sonata Lark,” she said, like it was obvious. She watched Jupiter’s face, scoffing at his confusion. “Night Lark’s wife,” she explained. “The mother of his kids. She was the lead scientist behind all the Lark Industries tech. Great at it too. Revolutionized the city into what it is today. But none of her work compared to her androids. They were her pride and joy.”

Jupiter had never heard the name. And it wasn’t surprising. He’d never been in school. Never had many friends. There was still so much about the city’s history he didn’t know. “How were her androids different?”

“Her husband was the businessman. He wanted them for commercial use. And she delivered. Garnered him more money and power than any mortal man could ever want. A whole city for himself,” she smirked. “ _But_ , it’s a dirty little secret that she wanted them to be more than just nuts and bolts, ones and zeros.”

“More?” Jupiter murmured. “How so?”

“She wanted to make them into something that couldn’t be distinguishable from humans.”

Jupiter went tense. One handsome face, one set of silver eyes, clouding his vision. Feeling like his chest had his lungs in a death grip. Fighting through the stinging breath he was dying to take. “Did she…” he gulped. “Succeed?”

Mad Kat shook her head. “She was sick for a long time,” she said, more somber. “Kicked the bucket about fifteen years ago.”

“Oh,” Jupiter said, deflating. Not knowing if he was relieved or disappointed.

“ _Although_ ,” she continued, leaning in closer. Voice dropping down to whisper despite being the only people left in the diner. “If you listen to the conspiracy theorists, they all think she wasn’t sick at all. They think Night Lark found out what she was trying to do. How she was trying to push the envelope on what a shiny could be. _Who_ a shiny could be. Afterall,” she smirked, “Nothing’s worse for business than an android uprising.”

His brows drew together. “And now?”

“Well,” she sat back with a sigh. “Every model that’s come after her is just a _little_ more subdued. A _little_ more siloed in their work. They don’t stray too far from what they know.” She grabbed her spoon, scraping the last bite off her plate and bringing it to her mouth. Talking around it. “Why do you ask, kid?”

His mouth fell open, thoughts flatlining.

“Jupiter!” his mother shouted, leaning out of the kitchen. “Let the woman eat in peace!”

Mad Kat rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, Ruby,” she laughed.

Jupiter shook his head. “Why do you call my mom Ruby?” he asked. “Her name is-”

“Jupiter!” she yelled again. “Get to closing. Now.”

Jupiter had started to take out the trash more often. Praying for just a glimpse of Eight. Hoping he was okay, that he was safe. But from his vantage point on the ground, he couldn’t see what those neon lights were hiding. He couldn’t see any shadow of Eight dancing upon the brick alley walls. And that only made him more concerned.

It was days before he saw the android again, standing on the fire escape, looking out over the alleyway with those same piercing silver eyes. And Jupiter felt like he could have spent an eternity below, looking up and admiring the way the neon light cut across the high and lows of his sculpted face. Imagining that Eight was wet clay between his hands that he could smooth his fingers over until he was just perfect.

Eight must have sensed him because he turned those silver eyes downward, smirking widening as he leaned over the railing. “Hey, you.”

Jupiter went still. Feeling like a stray animal locking eyes with a kind stranger. “Hey,” he breathed.

Eight clutched the railing between his hands, two of them now. And in the light, Jupiter could see the way the seams of his fingers met near the knuckles, like permanently fixed shiny silver rings. 

The android leaned over the edge. “You wanna come up?” he offered, eyes glinting.

Jupiter’s chest widened in a breath. He hurried to pull down the ladder, climbing up to him.

“Take a seat,” Eight beckoned to the edge. “I’ll be right back.” He ducked back in through his window with calculated grace.

When he came back out, he was holding two different cans. He handed one to Jupiter.

“I swiped it from the bar,” he smirked.

Jupiter momentarily wondered if he meant he’d swiped it just for him. He looked down to it. “Ginger ale? Really?” he laughed. Surprised it wasn’t something harder, coming from such a deviant place.

Eight’s shoulders fell, “Is that okay?”

Jupiter’s smile spread even wider. “Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s perfect.” He saw Eight’s face break in a soft smile. “Here,” he snapped open the tab, holding it up. “Let’s cheers.”

Eight popped the tab of his own drink. “Cheers,” he said, tapping them together.

Jupiter took a sip, looking over. “What are you drinking?” he asked. “Is that milk?”

“Milk?” Eight laughed, leaning closer. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

Jupiter got all trapped up in that light behind his eyes, having forgotten the potency of it. “Not about you,” he breathed. Hands wringing against that can between his hands. “But I want to. Know everything.”

Eight’s smile widened. He handed the can over.

Jupiter took it, turning it in his hands and furrowing his brow as he read out the label. “Lark Industries Ambrosia?”

Eight nodded. “It’s a cocktail of chemical coolants, viscous oils. All the things that keep us buckets of bolts up and running smoothly. Especially older models like me.”

Jupiter thought back to his conversation with Mad Kat, wondering absentmindedly about how old Eight’s model was. If he was a part of this Sonata person’s projects. But he didn’t know if it would be rude to ask. So he handed the can back, watching Eight take a sip. Focusing on the curved line of his jaw meeting his neck. The tightening under the skin when he swallowed. His own throat feeling drier. “What’s it taste like?”

Eight looked over. “Jupiter,” he said, softly. He shook his head. “I can’t taste.”

“Oh,” his eyes fell with sudden shame. That should have been obvious. Eight doesn’t need to feel, so he doesn’t. Eight doesn’t need to taste, so he doesn’t. “Right.”

“I’ll show you something,” the android offered, putting the edge of the can under Jupiter’s nose. “Take a whiff.”

He hesitatingly leaned forward, inhaling. But immediately, he felt the burn of chemicals in his nose, like bleach, gasoline. He choked, coughed. “Oh, god,” he sputtered, pulling away. “That smells awful.”

Eight laughed, that same loud, genuine sound as before. He pulled it back up to his lips, throwing back a long chug and before putting it down. He spun himself to sit cross-legged, knees brushing Jupiter’s side. “What about this?” And in a flash, he reached out, grabbing Jupiter’s face between his hands. 

Jupiter felt the static spark of their skin meeting. The buzz it elicited under his skin that couldn’t be pieced apart as biological and technological. His skin wasn’t warm like a human, but not cool either. Just pleasantly there and softer than Jupiter would have ever imagined.

Eight started to drag his face closer, too strong to fight against. Not that Jupiter could have with the firefight going on between his ears. 

“What are you-” 

Eight held him just short of his mouth, faces so close that Jupiter could see the flicker of his eyes. Feel his own warm breath bouncing back with the absence of Eight’s breathing.

“Smell,” the android whispered, before exhaling into the space between them.

Jupiter’s head flooded with scent again. But not pungent, burning chemicals. But instead, his breath smelled sweet, milky. Like honey or condensed milk. Melted vanilla ice cream. His eyes fluttered, inhaling more of it. “It's… good,” he murmured, feeling the desire to follow it. “Why’s it so good?”

Eight pulled his hands away, leaning back onto them and smiling. “My system filters out all the harsh stuff,” he said. “Wouldn’t be good to kiss a client tasting like lighter fluid, would it?”

“Wow,” Jupiter gasped. Eyes floating down to the android’s mouth again. Staring, wondering if the taste could compare to the smell. Wanting to find out. He smiled, “Sonata thought of everything, didn’t she?”

Eight’s smile fell, eyebrows twinging together. “Sonata?” 

Jupiter looked up, seeing the confusion in his eyes. Feeling awkward, shy. Like maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Eight blinked, before rushing to his feet. “Someone’s coming,” he said. “You need to go.”

Jupiter shouldn’t have taken it personally, but nevertheless, it made that shame crawl higher. Embarrassed as he clumsily scrambled to stand up. “Your boss?”

“No,” Eight shook his head, already heading back through the window. Barely even looking to Jupiter. “I’ll see you later.”

He felt even worse, sick and uneasy. Leaning heavier one foot. “Okay,” he nodded. “Stay safe, Eight.”

The android looked back to him, face serious. “I’ll try.” And with that he was back through the window, past the thinly-veiled curtains where he just became a silhouette against the neon light.

Jupiter backed away, starting to descend down the ladder. Taking one last look to see Eight’s outline joined by another. The person’s hands already on him as he caught the faintest shine of light in the android’s wide smile.

It made Jupiter’s stomach sink low. Not sure he could decipher this smile from the one used on him. And when he saw the shadow of their faces meeting, he momentarily felt just as cheap for watching as he did for thinking that he was anything special. Anything like the outlier Eight had said he was.

He turned away, continuing down the ladder. Out of cowardice or courtesy, he couldn’t tell.  


\---

The warehouses in the Steel District used to be production centers, hubs for commerce and industry from all different kinds of companies and people. But as the city rose above the Dust, putting up unscalable walls just to prove it, the other companies became nearly obsolete in favor of Lark Industries. And so the warehouses went to waste. Just like everything outside the opulent and glamourized Glass District. Revisited only by youth who tried to reclaim them, turning them into decaying venues for illegal musical performances. 

But Jupiter wasn’t thinking of all that. He wasn’t thinking of anything as the music played, the warehouse thick with show-goers who were dancing and jumping to the music. Him at the center, licking into a girl’s mouth. His fingers combing through her pink hair. Eyes screwed so tight that his head was throbbing in time with the bass. And Jupiter wasn’t so sure how he got from point A to point B. From sneaking out under his mother’s nose to locking lips with some stranger, but he didn’t mind. The music and the kissing drowned out the noise. The thinking that he couldn’t stop falling back into every time there was silence, stillness.

She pulled away, pink lipgloss smeared. She didn’t seem to care. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I want to smoke.”

Jupiter followed her, weaving through the crowd and following the pink sheen of her hair, her backpack. And when they found themselves outside, leaned up against a metal wall, they could hear the tinny rattle of the bass from inside. The music was electronic, skipping and jumping along pre-recorded tracks. And it didn’t compare to the music Jupiter had, the CD cases lining the shelf next to his bed. The music he collected from the Dust, that he shared with Eight. No, this music, reverberating off all the metal, lacked heart and grit and spirit. It was missing that indescribable feeling the mere mention of the Dust always left him with.

“Want one?” the girl said, pointing a cigarette box towards him. Sleek, monochrome packaging with bold letters across the side. Branding that was unmistakable.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

She huffed, never really putting her eyes on him. Not the way she so easily put her lips on him. “You sure look like you would.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he shrugged. “I have a headache anyway.”

“Oh,” she perked, reaching for her backpack. “I have something for that.”

“If it’s Lark Industries meds, don’t bother,” Jupiter shook his head. “My mom doesn’t trust any of that stuff. We try and avoid it if we can.”

“Oh,” she widened her eyes, pulling her bag back on. “You’re one of _those,_ ” she flicked her lighter, taking a drag. 

Jupiter raised a brow in her direction, “One of what?”

She blew out a puff of smoke. “Nevermind,” she breathed.

Jupiter sighed. Feeling the silence go awkward. Feeling the need to fill it. But he could barely think over the rattle of the warehouse walls that felt like hammering on his aching temples. He leaned closer, “They don’t like music the way they used to, huh?”

The girl looked up, expression twisting tight as she stared up at him. “What do you mean?” she said, voice heavy with disdain. “They never used to.”

Jupiter blinked, confused. “Yeah, they did,” he argued. “Back in the Gas Days. I have the CDs.”

“What’s a CD?” She rolled her eyes, waving him away. “Whatever. It’s all propaganda. They didn’t have anything like that in the Gas Days. All they had was sand and exhaust,” she said offhandedly, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the DJ playing inside. “It was Lark Industries who made the first instruments. It was their technology.”

Jupiter stared at her, shocked. Mind reeling. “Where did you learn that?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. “And don’t tell me that’s what they taught you in school.”

“Of course, it is.” She quirked her brow, looking him up and down. “What? You don’t go?”

Jupiter shook his head, “I don’t have to. My mom runs a diner in the Battery District.”

“Oh,” she smacked her pink glossed lips and took another drag, looking disinterested. “Sounds thrilling.” 

Jupiter stared at the smug look on her face, feeling himself growing irritable from the throbbing of his head, the abrasive cloud of her smoke that didn’t ease it. “Tell me then,” he said, leaning up against the wall and looming over her. “If Lark Industries made the tech, then why does Night Lark himself ban all musical performances from the city?”

Her face contorted, “Because…” But her words and eyes fell, expression going blank for a long moment. She snapped her head, glaring up at him. “Listen,” she sighed. “You’re really cute. But every time you open your mouth, you become less cute. So I’m going to go get a drink and by the time I come back, I’d like you saying a lot less words. Okay?”

Jupiter felt the counterargument fresh on his tongue, but he bit down on it. Not worth it.

“Here,” she said, slung her backpack off her shoulder, offering it to him. “Make yourself useful.”

Jupiter sighed, taking it. It felt like a load of bricks, weighing his arm down as he watched her brave the crowd again. He wondered what she had been carrying.

He crouched down, unzipping it and pulling out textbooks. “Lark Industries’ Guide to Computer Programming Languages,” he read under his breath. “Of course.” He pulled the next one. “Lark Industries’ Guide to Modern Transportation.” He scoffed, tossing them back into the backpack. He held the last one in his hands.

“ _Lark Industries’ Encyclopedia of Android Models._ ” 

Suddenly the music felt distant, quiet over the wave of a million curiosites crashing over him. He scrambled, fingers rushing to page through the book. Scanning through the index.

“84MX2, 84MX2,” he murmured. Finger sliding down the list. “84MX2. Come on.”

He gasped when his finger reached it. Drawing a straight line over. “Page 309.”

He flipped back with urgency. And when he reached the right page, he had to adjust himself to catch the dull glow of street lights above. Eyes adjusting to see a picture of Eight. Sharply dressed in a suit, smiling in a nearly plastic way. Totally different from Jupiter’s image of him. Absent of his fishnet tank and his platform boots and his genuine laugh. Realizing in the moment that the picture wasn’t Eight. It was Eight’s model. Which was totally different.

_**Model:** 84MX2_  
_**Speciality:** Pleasure_  
_**Status:** Out of Production_  
_**Number in use:** 39_

He blinked, not realizing that the model wasn’t still being made. Not realizing how few of them there were. Wondering if they were all in places like Eight. Seedy corners of the city. Hidden under the guise of other businesses. Owned by some possessor who was profiting from them. And it didn’t sit right with him. Because he knew that even if Eight wasn’t human, it didn’t mean he had to be enslaved. Even if he was built to be a pleasure model, that didn’t damn him to a life of servitude.

His eyes scanned down to the wall of text below.

_84MX2 were the last models to be designed by Lark Industries android designer, Sonata Lark, the late wife of CEO, Night Lark. Considered by most to be her swan song, 84MX2 were expected to be the new gold standard for human-engaging android experiences. The original proof of concept stated that the model would be “engaging, friendly, and authentically human in nearly every possible way. Blurring the standard of what we expect technology to be.”_

Engaging, friendly, authentically human. The words looped in his mind over and over again. Each of them describing Eight better than Jupiter ever could. And suddenly, he had a sinking feeling, wondering if maybe he’d fallen into a trap. Because he had been so quick to think that Eight was special. That their interactions were special. But were they? Or was this exactly what he was programmed for? Was Jupiter no different than any other client?

_Unfortunately, Sonata never got to see the model reach the market. There were delays in production and she passed away before the release._

_Today, the model has become nearly obsolete as the introduction of newer models has terminated any further production. But nevertheless, they remain a symbol of Sonata Lark’s legacy and the ideas that inarguably revolutionized Lark Industries forever._

“What are you doing?”

He looked up, meeting the girl’s eyes. He closed the book. “Nothing,” he shrugged, sliding it back into her backpack. “Nothing.”

She glared at him. “Weirdo,” she mumbled under her breath, grabbing her backpack back and tossing it over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get a spot near the front for the next set.”

But just as Jupiter stood, the music in the warehouse cut off. A few screams emanating from inside. And the crowd started to seep through the cracks and doors like roaches, scattering outwards.

Jupiter’s eyes went wide, heart rate kicking up in confusion as people started running past him. He looked to his side and saw the pink haired girl gone without a trace. A hint of relief alongside every other warning of panic as he tried to dodge the sudden current. Trying to focus his eyes inside but not able to see anything other than the flood of people. 

He reached out a hand, grabbing onto a boy running from the door. Watching his eyes widen down at Juptier’s hand around his arm, trying to pull away, but Jupiter held him firm. “What’s going on?” he shouted.

“Crows!” the boy yelled back. “They are taking people! Get out of here!” And with that, he pulled away, continuing to run.

Jupiter didn’t need to be told twice. He knew who the Crows were. The closest thing Lark Industries had to a military force. Dedicated to maintaining law and order within and outside of the city. And he knew exactly what could happen to a person from a lesser district, a lesser class like him. He knew people had a habit of disappearing under their watch and never coming back. So he took off, scattering alongside the rest of the crowd.

By the time, Jupiter was back in his own district, on his own block, his lungs were burning, his legs were tired, and his headache pounding even harder. He bent over, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway. Racing heartbeat in his ears and breathes seething from his chest. Trying to catch his breath, but every inhale felt burning and painful.

“Out for a run?”

If Jupiter hadn’t been out of breath, he might have yelped. But instead, he gasped, clutching his chest. Shoulders crashing against the brick wall behind him and eyes shooting up towards the voice.

Eight was on his fire escape, hands folded over the railing and chin resting. Smirk going all the way up to his glowing eyes.

Jupiter sighed, shoulders falling. “You scared me,” he breathed.

Eight laughed. “A little late for exercise,” he quipped, raising a brow. “And the leather jacket doesn’t exactly scream activewear.” 

Jupiter felt the black leather sticking to the layer of sweat on his skin. He gulped, staring up at him. “Can I come up?”

Eight nodded.

He peeled off his jacket, hurrying at the invitation. 

“Tell me,” the android said. “Where did you go?”

“I just came from a show,” he grunted as he climbed the ladder up to him. Muscles settling into stiffened soreness.

“Oh, yeah?” Eight leaned up against the window sill. Folding his arms over his chest. “By yourself?”

Jupiter thought back to the pink haired girl. The stale taste of her mouth. The cloud of her cigarette smoke. The sharpness of her words. “With a friend,” he said, leaning next to him.

“Mm,” Eight hummed. “How was it?”

Jupiter looked out over the alleyway. “Not quite what I wanted it to be,” he admitted, absentmindedly wringing the jacket in his hands. “The venue got raided by Crows towards the end.”

Eight was silent for a moment, until Jupiter looked over. Seeing the heaviness of the android’s eyes. Full of what Jupiter could only read as concern. “I’m sorry,” Eight murmured. “Must have put a damper on the whole night.”

“It’s fine,” Jupiter shook his head. “I wasn’t having much fun anyway.”

“Why not?”

He thought back to the girl and her disregard for him and where he came from. Her willingness to believe everything the city was trying to teach, even when Jupiter had the proof. When he had the Dust. He combed a hand through his hair, looking over. “Not my first choice of company,” he smiled tightly.

Eight’s eyes were focused on him, floating down his face. Apertures adjusting, studying. “And yet,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, gripping his fingers into the collar of Jupiter’s t-shirt. Tugging it close to show off a brilliant pink glossy stain. “You were kissing them?” Eight questioned, raising a brow.

Jupiter went hot, filling with shame. Feeling stupid and immature and shallow. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I was.” 

Eight’s fingers let go of the shirt. Letting it fall back into place. No trace of a smile on his face anymore. Not stepping back. “How was it?”

Jupiter still felt hot, eyes falling down to his shoes. Unable to face him. “You’ve kissed people,” he shrugged. “You know.”

He shook his head, “Not without money being exchanged first.”

Jupiter went quiet. Sad at the thought.

“It must be different, right?” Eight asked.

“Maybe,” Jupiter contemplated. “I would think so.”

“Then, show me.”

Jupiter looked over, eyes going wide. “What?”

Eight shrugged. “Be my first,” he smiled. “So to speak.”

He stared at him. His face so close that he could see that captivating glow behind the android’s eyes. “Are you-” he tripped up on his words. “Are you sure?”

“Jupiter,” Eight huffed, perfect white teeth showing through. He shook his head, “You don’t need to ask-”

He stood up, hands fisting. “ _Yes, I do,_ ” he looked at him, expression too serious. Tone too firm. “You have a _choice_ , Eight. You don’t have to do things just because you think you were programmed to. You don’t have to be friendly or engaging or-”

Eight stood up, hands moving too fast as they gripped Jupiter’s hips. As they leveraged inhuman strength with restrained gentleness to press him against the brick.

Jupiter’s eyes went up, going wide at the image of Eight towering over on his platforms. 

Eight’s smirk spread, that huff of laughter still somewhere there as he leaned in closer. 

When Eight’s mouth met Jupiter’s, everything about it felt different. The way the brush of electricity felt against his mouth, fuzzy and numbing. The way he didn’t run hot like a person, just as tepid as the night air. The way he didn’t breath, didn’t beat, making Jupiter’s frantic thrumming seem even louder. The way he didn’t drown out the sound in Jupiter’s ears, didn’t distract his thoughts or his headache, but instead, soothed it. Easing that tension as he leaned closer, pushing Jupiter further up the wall till he could feel his heels nearly hovering off the fire escape.

Jupiter’s hands smoothed up Eight’s neck, curving around every sculpted contour like they were made to fit his hands. Wrapping around the base of his neck and feeling the cool metal that lay beneath his skin in place of his spine. And where he maybe would have expected the android’s lips to feel like that dense metal, they didn’t. They were soft and smooth and perfect against his own. That faint smell of candied sweetness that was so enticing. Different from every person Jupiter had ever kissed, but nice. More than nice really.

When Eight pulled away, it was only his lips. Not his face, not his hands, not his body, not his strength. All of those things still pressed firm and close against Jupiter. Making him feel small in a way he never did. The android’s silver eyes painted down his face, focusing on that pink stain on his shirt. Hand reaching up to thumb over it. “Was it like that, then?” he whispered.

But that stain was too far from Jupiter’s mind. The memory of the pink-haired girl, of anyone else, nowhere to be found. Eight was standing above him, eclipsing everything. “No,” he breathed. “Nothing like that.” 

The android’s eyes found his again, brows twinging up in the center. “How so?” he asked, with a tilt of his head.

And how could Jupiter voice the feeling he was having right now? How could he begin to string words together in a manner that even compared?

The android’s eyes went panicked. “Oh no,” he gasped. “I forgot to breathe.” He rushed to explain himself, “I’m sorry. I usually do with others. You know, so it feels normal. I’m so sor-” 

“No, no. It’s fine,” Jupiter shook his head, drawing him closer again. The hand at his neck tightening to keep him there. Watching Eight’s eyes widen mechanically. Carefully watching Jupiter. Waiting, anticipating. And being the thing the android was focused on, being the center of all his operations, made Jupiter feel that warm fuzzy static feeling all over. His mouth pulled up at the corners, he nodded, “Leave the breathing to me.” 

Eight smiled, looking relieved. “You should be going,” he said. “You work tomorrow morning.”

Jupiter furrowed his brows, “How would you know that?”

“I know your schedule,” Eight giggled. “I can hear you in the kitchen. You sing to yourself when you’re cooking, you know?”

Jupiter’s smile widened. “Your hearing reaches that far?”

Eight’s eyes fell, watching his hands painting up Jupiter’s chest with a grin. “Your mother is on her third cup of tea,” he whispered. “I think she’s staying up. Worried where you are.”

“Oh, jeez,” Jupiter rolled his eyes. “I should go then.”

“You should,” Eight nodded. He stood back, freeing his hands and his weight from Jupiter’s frame. 

Jupiter felt emptier, colder without it.

Eight went to his window, straddling the ledge. “Have a good night, Jupiter,” he smiled with a flicker of light in his eyes.

Jupiter watched him, totally enthralled. “You too, Eight,” he breathed. “You too.”


	3. to step out of the hallucination,

“To step out of the hallucination,” Heat Seeker held his hands up, looking deep into Jupiter’s eyes with all the wide insistence of an assured guru. “You need to be willing to just... let go, man. And trust that it will be alright.” 

Jupiter sat across from him, arms crossed over the table and face drawn up tight on one side. “Let go of what?”

The man went silent, still. Looking expectantly with a purposeful pause. He nodded. “Exactly the thing that came to mind,” he smirked.

Jupiter sighed, sitting back. “Alright,” he got up, waving. “I’ll leave you to it, Heat.” He walked his way back to the kitchen, where his mother was prepping ingredients for the next day. He leaned over her cutting board, handing her an onion. “Is he okay?” he murmured, beckoning back to the diner. “Seems like he’s more Dust than brains, that one.”

“Be nice,” she chided, taking the onion from his hand. “He’s old. Wise. He’s seen a lot.”

“Old, sure. Seen a lot, I can tell,” he huffed. “But wise? I have doubts.”

“Jupiter,” she warned.

“Just saying,” he shrugged, letting it go. “Is there anything else you need tonight?”

“No,” she shook her head, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand and looking up at him. “Why?”

Jupiter spotted the smudge of flour on her cheekbone. “I just,” he smiled, swiping it off with his thumb. “Had somewhere I wanted to go.”

“Where?” she asked, not sharing his smile.

Jupiter shrugged, eyes drawing away, “Somewhere.”

“You know I don’t like you out so late,” she sighed. “Not with Crows around. Sweeping people up off the streets.”

“I’ll be close,” he nodded. “I just wanted to go see a friend.”

“What friend?”

“A friend,” he said simply. “I can have friends, right?”

She didn’t answer, just looked more nervous.

“I’ll be fine,” he reached out, rubbing her shoulders. “You worry too much.” 

She shrugged him off. “Fine,” she conceded. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” he sing-songed. He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “Don’t wait up for me.”

He went through the darkened hallway that linked the kitchen to their small apartment. He cleaned up, got dressed in something nicer than just his eggy work clothes. He went to the shelf next to his bed that held his CDs, reaching behind for a hidden jar of loose bills. Tips he’d received, extra cash that he’d collected. The ones his mother had told him to save for a rainy day. For something special. 

He hadn’t seen Eight in two weeks. He kept looking for him, expecting him to be leaning on his fire escape, but he never was. The curtains always shut tight, keeping Jupiter out of whatever was going on inside. And yet every smile he had since they kissed had been for Eight. Every moment he looked up into the blackened sky and thought it wasn’t that bad. Every sleepy blink that had him falling into dreams of clear air, warm sun, Eight at his side. All of it was for him.

So he didn’t have any second thoughts about his plan until he was at the door of the karaoke place, hearing the noise from inside and grasping just what it all meant. Understanding where he was going, what he was doing. But any anxiety he had about it was outweighed by that desire to see Eight, to hear his voice, bask in his glow.

He went inside, up a dark, narrow staircase with shabby steps that creaked under each cautious footfall. The top of the stairs opened up into a room, dark and poorly lit. The possessor sat at a desk, feet on the corner, leaned back in his chair. A handheld console between his hands with high pitched video game sounds ringing out. His heavy brows drawn in concentration.

Jupiter went in front of the desk, feeling his stomach churn with sudden nerves. “Hi.”

The possessor paused his game with a sigh. He looked up. Face like a bulldog, mean and droopy. He stared, scrutinizing Jupiter where he stood.

Jupiter grabbed the money from his pocket. “Two hours,” he rushed to say. “With an 84MX2.” He slid the crumpled bills across the desk. “Is this enough?”

The man kept looking at him, dissecting him. His lip pulling up in a sneer. “First timers,” he scoffed. He reached out, combing the cash towards him. “Go ahead,” he grumbled, motioning to the door at the other side of the room. “And don’t let them scare you,” he smiled, something diabolically sinister in it. “They’re known to be pushy. Just knock them around if they give you trouble.”

Jupiter’s fists tightened. He narrowed his eyes, sharpened words nearly tumbling out before he withheld himself. “Yes, sir,” he said through a clenched jaw.

When he went through the door, it felt like an entirely different place. Red lights were all around him, illuminating everything in a threatening glow. Multiple doors fanning out along the walls, like maybe this place had at one time been the karaoke business it promised from the outside. Bassy music softly emanating from speakers near the empty bar. And he was perhaps faced with how crazy this all was. For a good kid like himself to have found his way into a place like this.

A door opened and through it came Eight. He was wearing different clothes now. All white, a flowing blouse that was open at the neck. A delicate gold chain glistening against his collarbones. His eyes coming up from the floor to fall on Jupiter.

His heart gave a twist in his chest. “Hey,” he breathed.

Eight’s smirk drew up instantly. “Hey, yourself,” he said, coming close. 

From so close, Jupiter could see that the silver in his irises had been replaced with a rich violet. Accented by smudges of eyeshadow near the outer corners. Looking different than he always had.

Jupiter tried not to get distracted, lost in piecing apart every new detail. “Sorry, I’m here,” he winced. “I just wanted to see you.”

Eight giggled. “You’re so precious,” he said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He shook his head, “You don’t have to apologize, sugar.”

Jupiter felt the flutter at his intimate touch. He took in a deep breath, eyes painting over his features. “Do you have somewhere we can talk?” he asked softly.

Eight smiled, that hand on his cheek painting down to his chest. Long fingers twisting into his shirt. “Is that all you want to do?” he whispered.

Jupiter was about to answer when he felt fingers lace around his hand, tugging him away. He looked back, seeing Eight. Another Eight. Gold, glowing eyes and mouth drawn in a pout. “Not fair,” he whined, black painted fingernails tugging harder. “You can’t just choose without seeing all of us?”

Jupiter’s eyes went wide. The breath stolen from his chest in a gasp.

The purple eyed Eight tugged him back. “He saw me first,” he said firmly.

And Jupiter looked back to him now and realized it wasn’t Eight at all. Same model, but a totally different android.

Gold eyes’ shoulders fell, “Not fair.”

Jupiter’s stomach fell, panic engulfing every inch of his skin.

“What about me?”

Jupiter looked up, seeing another coming towards them. Fluttering green eyes and a cocky smile.

Gold eyes scoffed, “They always chose you.”

“You all are late,” Purple eyes shrugged. “He was talking to _me_.”

“Wait,” Jupiter choked up on his words, eyes darting between all of them. Feeling startled and out of breath. “I-”

“Jupiter!”

They all stopped, turning towards Eight, silver-eyed and wearing that mix of fishnet and vinyl, as he was coming out of his room. A young woman filtering out behind him and going towards the exit.

Green eyes glared over at him. “You know this one?” he hissed.

Eight groaned, coming forward and pushing the others away. “Get off of him,” he gritted out.

The other Eights looked up to Jupiter, a question in their multi-colored eyes.

Jupiter’s mouth fell open, feeling unbelievably shy under all of their stares. “Um,” he spoke timidly, looking up to Eight. The only Eight that mattered. He nodded, “I’m going with him.”

Eight took Jupiter’s hand, throwing glares to the others as he dragged him away.

Inside Eight’s room was beautiful. Lights strung up around the edges of the ceiling, bathing the walls in the purple and blue light that Jupiter had only seen from outside. A bed was centered on one wall. Black silk sheets looking liquid in the light. A rack of clothes on another wall, some more costumey than others. There was a vanity, accessories pinned around the mirror. In fact, there were mirrors everywhere you turned, refracting all the neon light. Reflecting too many of them to count in a glance. 

“This is it?” Jupiter turned towards him, smiling. “This is where you live?”

Eight’s face had grown more serious in the seconds he’d looked away. “This is where I _work._ ”

Jupiter’s smile dulled. “Right,” he murmured, stomach sinking. “Sorry.”

Eight crossed his arms over his chest, cocking a hip to the side. “What are you doing here, Jupiter?”

He could hear it in his tone. The irritation, the exasperation. And it all made him feel like Eight’s platforms were twice as tall and he was shrinking under the weight of his heavy, luminous stare. “I was worried,” he said, managing to make it sound like an excuse. “You haven’t been on your fire escape.”

The android shrugged, “I’ve been working. In fact, I’m supposed to be working right now.”

“I just thought…” Jupiter started to say. But he bit his tongue, not wanting to voice all of the wild and desperate worries he’d been holding onto. The immature, selfish dreams he’d had of this moment panning out differently. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. 

Eight came forward, steps just a little too quick to be human. Fingers drawing up under Jupiter’s chin to firmly hold him. Eyes narrowing, “Did you pay for me?”

Jupiter’s thoughts went fuzzy. Half from Eight’s touch and half from the accusation. He gulped. “Yes,” he admitted. “How else-”

Eight scoffed, rolling his eyes and letting go. Turning on his heel and walking to the other side of the room, leaning over the vanity to comb his fingers through hair. “I should have let one of the others take you,” he hissed. “If that’s what you wanted. A whore for hire.”

Jupiter’s brain buzzed. He stepped closer, grabbing Eight’s wrist and pulling his attention away. “Hey,” he glared. “Stop. That’s not what-”

Eight winced, shoulder drawing up. “Please,” he murmured. All the anger that had just been there falling away to something totally different.

Jupiter stared at him, not understanding, before his eyes went down to where he’d grabbed him. He gasped. “I’m sorry,” he rushed to say, letting his hand fall. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-” 

Eight looked up at him, broken expression and slumped shoulders. Fingers wringing around his wrist. Waiting on his next words.

Jupiter sighed, feeling awful. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ll leave if you want me to. I don’t mind.” He couldn’t look at him, feeling too full of shame. He gave him space, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. Fingers feeling over the soft spots between his knuckles nervously. “I was just worried,” he said. “I can hear it, you know. From below.” He looked up at him, “And I just wanted to give you a break from all that.”

Eight stared at him. A glint in the glow of his eyes. “How long did you book me?”

Jupiter took a deep breath. “Two hours.”

Eight came forward, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Well,” he said. “We could...” his voice trailed off, thinking. “Listen to some music?”

Jupiter smelled that candied sweetness on him. He felt himself flicker with something more hopeful. He pulled the CD player from his pocket and unwrapped the wire around the headphones. “Here,” he said softly, handing them over. “I wanted to show you this song.”

When he looked up, Eight was watching him. His expression so much softer. Not filled with anger. Not filled with fear. But something entirely different that made Jupiter’s hair stand up on end.

“What?” he huffed, mouth unconsciously stretching into a smile. “Eight, what’s wrong?”

The android shook his head. “Nothing,” he said as he slipped the headphones over his ears. “I want to hear it.” 

Jupiter clicked through the tracks of the CD, letting it rest on one in particular. Watching the little display as the seconds started to tick forward. Hearing the music start to play from the headphones.

And they sat like that for a long while, Eight looking back at him as he listened. Something different in the way he didn’t feel that urge to bob his head to the beat. To do anything at all really. Just sit and listen.

And when the song finished, Eight smiled. “Who is this?” he asked, taking the headphones off.

“King Cobra,” Jupiter flipped open the CD player, showing him the disc. The letters big, red and black. The cursive C a curling snake. “Whatever that means.”

Eight giggled, nose crinkling. “It’s a type of snake. Went extinct not long after the Gas Ages.”

“How do you-”

“I have a small record of it in my database,” he said. He blinked. “I’m sorry,” he winced. “That’s a weird thing to say, isn’t it?”

“No,” Jupiter shook his head. “No. It’s amazing.”

Eight looked up at him, smile small. “I like the songs you show me,” he said. “I play them back sometimes. When I want to hear them.” 

“How?” 

“I record them,” he shrugged. “When I listen.”

Jupiter stared at him, in awe. “And you can just?” he blinked. “Listen to them?” 

“In the background,” he nodded. “Internally.”

“What’s that like?” 

“I don’t really have words to describe it,” he tinkered with the headphones in his hands. “Like unpacking a file and reading its contents.”

Jupiter’s eyes drifted over him, seeing how the colorful light met the highs and lows of his sculpted face, his built arms. He gulped. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

Eight looked to him. “Yeah,” he said, softly. “I guess you wouldn’t.” He looked away, running a hand down his neck. “Maybe it's like having a song stuck in your head,” he laughed. “But what would I know about that?”

Jupiter couldn’t stop watching him, taking in every little detail. “When?” he asked, moving closer. “When do you listen to them?”

Eight’s eyes dulled, going more serious. “Sometimes, I listen when I work,” he said. “You know. To drown out the job.” He looked over, catching Jupiter’s eyes.

Jupiter felt his heart sink low in his chest, overwhelmingly sad at the thought of it.

Eight looked away. He picked up the headphones, put them over his ears again. “Play me another,” he said, sliding back to lay down against the bed.

Jupiter looked at him, the outline of black silk sheets silhouetting him. Feeling a nervousness come over him. “Okay,” he nodded, crawling back to lay down next to him. “Another.”

He clicked through the CD, landing on the album’s soft bluesy track. The one he liked to listen to before bed. To mellow his thoughts, to ready his mind for a night of sweet dreams. 

Eight lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he listened.

And Jupiter joined him, looking up and seeing the mirrors reflecting their image. Showing them side by side. Jupiter holding his CD player to his chest as the cord tethered the headphones Eight was wearing. The electric connection between them making Jupiter smile. 

“I’ve heard this one before,” Eight said, looking back at Jupiter’s reflection.

“Really?” he tilted a brow. “How?”

“I’ve heard you singing it,” he smiled. “When you work.”

Jupiter felt the flush against his cheeks. “I can’t believe you could hear me all this time,” he covered his face with his hands. “It’s so embarrassing.”

Eight reached over, pulling his wrist away. Brows creasing together. “How’s it embarrassing?”

Jupiter looked back at him, feeling his fingers clutching around his wrist. Remembering that subtle buzz of electricity he gave off. Blaming it for the way his thoughts jumbled together. “I don’t know,” he laughed, shaking his head. “It just is.”

Eight drew his hand away, resting his cheek against it as he turned onto his side to stare at Jupiter.

And somehow, it made Jupiter buzz twice as hard. 

The android smiled. “Can you sing it for me?”

Jupiter’s eyes widened, taken off guard. “What?”

“Your singing is pretty,” Eight shrugged. “I want to see you when you do it.”

Jupiter couldn’t stop staring at him. The way the light was hitting him making his smile look so genuine and beautiful. And he had to remind himself that Eight could chart the beating of his heart, trying to quell an unconscious spike before it went noticed. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll sing it for you.”

He opened his mouth, voice shy and weak as he started to make out the lyrics. Remembering them easily from long nights in the kitchen of listening over and over again. Always eagerly devouring anything Great Shot could get through from the Dust. 

The music always made him feel that unbridled sense of freedom that he’d never really known before. Made him think of a place where you could drive for miles with no one else around, a place with blue skies and loud characters. And just the fact that a place like that existed was enough to give him hope. Even in the endless nights, the propaganda, the districts’ castes. 

It was a little weird, singing with the feeling of Eight’s eyes so persistently focused on him. But when he’d look over, he could see the gentleness of his smile coaxing him to sing a little louder, a little stronger. And so he did. Singing until the lyrics had run out and he had nothing more to sing. Nothing more to do than look in Eight’s eyes, waiting patiently for his next words.

“Mmmm,” Eight hummed, smile stretching even wider. “So pretty.”

Jupiter’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah?” he smiled.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It sounds like what I imagine kissing you feels like.” 

“Imagine?” Jupiter’s brows went up, confused. “But, last time, we-” 

Eight laughed, “ _Feels_ like, darling.”

Jupiter stomach clenched in sudden embarrassment. And it slowly unclenched, giving way to aching, hollow empathy. He turned onto his side, facing Eight, “You really can’t feel anything?”

The android bit down on his lips. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t even know what feeling _feels_ like.” 

Jupiter pressed his mouth into a thin line. Eyes going down the length of Eight’s body. Feeling something stirring in him that he was struggling to keep contained. And he could have blamed so many things. The multiple Eights with their eyes on him, the black silk sheets, the neon lights, the closeness of Eight’s face, the two weeks he’d spent replaying that kiss. He could have blamed these things and more, but it wouldn’t have alleviated that stirring. So with a shaky hand, he reached out, brushing softly against Eight’s thigh. All that stiff vinyl squeaking under his fingertips. “Can you feel this?” he asked.

Eight looked up at him. Full lips tugging up at one side. He shook his head.

Jupiter held his breath as his hand smoothed up Eight’s leg, feeling where it joined at his hip. He lightly squeezed there, thumb pressing into the metal of his hip bone. “This?” he asked, voice getting softer.

Eight’s smile widened. Eyes glimmering. He shook his head again.

Jupiter admired that look in his eyes, feeling the encouragement in it. Taking it as a sign. “What about-” he pushed himself up, leaning over and placing a kiss on Eight’s neck. Murmuring into his sweet smelling skin, “This.”

He felt the gentle push of Eight’s hand against his chest. “Jupiter,” he sighed.

Jupiter pulled away, seeing the wince across Eight’s face. He rushed to pull his hand away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable again. Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“No. It’s okay,” Eight stopped him. “It’s not that. It’s just.” He sighed. “Let me show you.” He sat up, leaning over to his bedside table. He grabbed a lighter, criss-crossing his legs in front of Jupiter. 

“What are you-”

Eight flicked the lighter, holding his open hand over it. The flame licking at his palm.

Jupiter gasped. “Stop,” he reached out. But he stopped short, noticing that the android didn’t cry out. Didn’t even wince. He just held it there. A small line of smoke snaking up, carrying with it the smell of burning plastic.

“See?” Eight let the lighter go, turning his hand over.

Jupiter pulled his hand closer, inspecting it. It wasn’t burnt, not even blackened. Jupiter put his thumbs against it. It felt warm to the touch, squishier than the rest of his skin. Before it seemed to slowly harden back to its original texture. Indistinguishable from that of a human. He looked up to Eight, eyes wide.

“Nothing,” the android shrugged. “I can’t feel it,” he admitted, sounding defeated.

Jupiter felt that ache of empathy again, settling low in the pit of his stomach.

Eight huffed, smirking. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me.”

“I don’t,” he rushed to say. “I mean... I _do._ But…” 

Eight stared back. Silver apertures widening, waiting for him to speak.

Jupiter’s grip on Eight’s hand went nervous, thumbs brushing against the android’s palm unconsciously, fiddling with his slender fingers. He sighed. “But _I_ want to make you feel,” he said, softly. “ _I_ want to make you feel good. Amazing. Totally different from the scum who pay for you.”

Eight’s mouth spread into a gentle smile that went all the way up to his eyes. Biting into his lip. “Maybe,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You can _show_ me what it feels like.”

Jupiter stilled. “What do you mean?”

Eight shrugged. “I’d like to see you feeling,” he said, hand reaching out to clutch Jupiter's thigh. Fingers gripping in with precisely wielded strength. Bright eyes watching his face closely.

Jupiter hissed too sharp. Tensing up under his touch.

Eight’s grip weakened, “Too much?” His fingers ghosted up his hip, slipping under the edge of his t-shirt. Laying against his ribs, making small circles there.

Jupiter looked up at him, seeing his whole inhumanly beautiful presence hovering close. He shook his head. “No,” he swallowed. “It feels good,” his words shook. “Just… a lot.”

Eight’s teeth showed through his smile, white and perfect. “Is it always a lot?” he said, fingers walking themselves higher, pressing against his sternum. Fabric bunching at his wrist.

Jupiter had a few choice encounters under his belt. From secret shows in the Steel District and the like. But everything about this felt different. It wasn’t rushed and loud and impersonal, a hormonal means to an end. Instead, it was all the details that couldn’t be measured. Eight’s tepid fingertips against his exposed skin. His glowing silver eyes catching the neon light. The creamy sweet smell of his mouth. “No,” he breathed. “This is different.”

Eight giggled, pretty eyes crescenting. “What’s different about it?” he whispered, hand sliding up to his neck. Curling around the nape and drawing him forward.

“You,” Jupiter murmured. “You’re different.” He leaned in, closing the gap. Kissing him. And it was so soft and gentle and remincint of the last time. But more too. Cause he was laying in Eight’s bed, in his sheets. Occupying his time and attention fully. And you couldn’t put a price on the way it made Jupiter’s body thrum from more than just electricity.

Eight pulled away, fingers playing with the hair on the back of Jupiter’s neck. “How does kissing me feel?” he asked.

He stared back, eyes glossy. Entranced. “Perfect,” he breathed.

“Come on,” Eight rolled his eyes. “You can do better than that, Jupiter.”

He smiled, pressing his own lips together as his gaze dwelled on Eight’s mouth. Thinking but all his thoughts were fuzzy like that electricity when they touched, kissed. “Like... the first bite of something you’ve been craving,” he said. “Delicious, but leaving you wanting more.”

Eight laughed, bright and genuine. “More?”

“I mean,” Jupiter went shy, self-conscious. Shoulders tightening too high. “If _you_ want more.”

Eight’s smile turned cocky, eyebrows flicking up. He moved slow, nearly cat-like as he climbed over Jupiter. Knees on either side of his hips, hands on either side of his head. Poised over him with a question in his eyes. His presence, muscles taut and eyes haughty, was so much. Making Jupiter’s body spark all over.

Eight leaned down, mouth so close before he finally filled the space. Kissing Jupiter so soft that he felt himself arching off the bed to meet him. His brain only able to think more, more, more.

In a moment of eagerness, Jupiter’s mouth fell open, tongue tasting Eight. That melted vanilla ice cream taste of lingering Ambrosia that dripped with saccharine desire. Keeping Eight’s inner workings cool while making Jupiter feel hot. And damn, it was so good. More addictive than anything he’d ever known. Like he knew immediately that he was going to keep needing this for a long time.

The way Eight kissed him was the other side of the spectrum. Like he was something delicate that he had to restrain himself from overpowering. A soft flower between two firm hands. His tongue perfectly choreographed in a dance that he was walking Jupiter through. And the push and pull, between Jupiter wanting more and Eight holding back, was so much more perfect than he’d even dreamed about.

Eight pulled away, eyes back on him. So warm and smiling. Tongue dancing against his teeth. 

“What?” Jupiter whispered.

The android’s hand came to Jupiter’s cheek, sweeping over his skin so softly. “Tell me how it feels.”

Jupiter’s breaths were shaky. And he would have traded each one of them for more of Eight’s mouth on his. “Feels like…” he tried to think, finding it increasingly difficult with those tepid fingers against his cheek. “Better than breathing. Better than anything. Tastes so sweet.” 

Eight giggled, “You’re so sweet.” He sat himself in Jupiter’s lap, drawing his fingers away to tease at the edge of his fishnet tank. Raising it slowly off his muscled frame.

And Jupiter just laid back, watching each millimeter of skin reveal itself. Like a sculpture, like art. And he had a moment where he could have kissed Sonata Lark for her creation. Knowing Eight was indeed one hell of a swan song.

Eight tossed his shirt. “That’s better,” he sighed, dreamily. And his hands reached for Jupiter’s sides, gripping in and flipping them easily until Jupiter was the one hovering over. Sitting up in Eight’s lap.

And Jupiter couldn’t explain why he suddenly felt so bashful. On top and unsure of what to do. Hesitating for a moment too long before Eight’s hands reached for his face. Smoothly drawing him in to kiss again. Licking into his mouth with more immediacy than before.

Jupiter fell forward into him, hands instinctively on his bare chest. And fuck, he was so firm in all the right places. Not bulky, but built. His chest and his arms and his abs. And Jupiter felt himself whimpering into Eight’s mouth, torn between wanting to keep tasting and wanting to keep seeing.

He could feel the way Eight smiled, tight against his lips. Confident and amused at the way Jupiter was so eagerly falling apart with every small movement. Eight’s hands reached for his shirt, tugging it off and breaking away to toss it into the ether.

Jupiter felt so exposed as he watched Eight’s eyes snake down his frame. Not what he would have considered sculpted and perfected. But instead, mundane, human. Dotted with small little remnants of grease burns from cooking. Pale from the endless nights of the city. And his arms tried to cover himself, but Eight’s hands were there immediately. Pulling them away. The small smile going all the way up to his eyes.

And soon, the android’s hands followed his eyes. Firmly, melting down his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his sides. Further and further. And the static touch of it ran right through Jupiter. Tickling at the warmth that was already there. Making him feel fuzzy and numb in a way that probably wouldn’t have been erotic if it wasn’t for every other little thing that was making him weak.

Eight’s hands went further, curling over his hips. Splaying firm against his ass.

And Jupiter didn’t mean to shudder, but he couldn’t help it. Whining under his breath as he looked down at Eight underneath him.

“Are you okay?” the android asked, starting to sit up. A tint of concern in his eyes. “You’re so shaky.”

Jupiter bit his lip. “Your hands,” he murmured.

Eight’s eyes glowed. “What do they feel like?” he whispered. His fingers wrapping again around the curves. Nearly meeting in the middle. Pulling Jupiter further into his lap. 

Jupiter’s eyes fluttered shut. God, the brush of pressure against his hardening cock felt so- “So strong,” he swallowed. Trying to think but every thought was getting lost in the electric current, the subtle vibration running through him. “So… fucking…” he sighed. His brain felt fried. “I can’t think.”

Eight brought his face closer, abs tensing where they curled. “Where?” he whispered. No breath from his mouth against Jupiter’s face. He gripped his ass firmer. “Here?” 

Jupiter shuddered again. “Mhmm,” he whined, biting down on his lip. 

Eight’s mouth came close to his ear, speaking so low. “You want to feel more?” 

Jupiter couldn’t speak, overwhelmed. He nodded frantically.

Eight chuckled, deep and warm, as he wrapped an arm around Jupiter’s waist. The other one folding Jupiter’s legs around him. He picked Jupiter up with no grunt in his throat or quiver of his muscles. It was like Jupiter was made of paper.

And wow, it made his cheeks feel so warm. His eyes still closed, feeling the brush of his cock against Eight’s toned torso. It made him burn with shame, senselessly. Made him wrap his arms around Eight’s neck and bury his face in his shoulder.

Eight got up from the bed, walking Jupiter to the edge and laying him on his back with the utmost care and strength. Pressing kisses into the hollow of his throat as his hands pushed his shirt up. His fingers traced down his torso before he brushed his knuckles up against the firm outline of his cock.

Jupiter shuddered again, hissing through his teeth.

Eight giggled into his neck. “You’re so cute, Jupiter,” he soothed. “I’ve never seen someone as cute as you.”

Jupiter pushed against his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

Eight watched his face, laughing again. “Of course,” he nodded. “You’re my outlier.”

Jupiter’s chest felt caved. So deep that he nearly forgot about Eight’s hand below his belt until he felt the press of it firm against him. Making his mouth fall open, his eyebrows tilt up.

Eight’s bright expression went darker, heavier. Smile faltering in favor of intently watching Jupiter’s face. Palming at his cock over the fabric. Slipping himself off the edge of the bed to sit on the floor between Jupiter’s knees.

He rushed to sit up on his elbows, gaze going to Eight who was carefully lifting up his foot, pulling at the laces of his sneakers. He slipped them off, kissing at the insides of his ankles. And when he’d pulled the other one off, he licked his lips. Leaning up to touch at Jupiter’s cock again, taunting him with his fingers before reaching for the waist of his pants. Undoing them with such a frustratingly slow pace that it had Jupiter arching his hips up towards him.

It didn’t make the android move any faster. In fact, he didn’t seem to give Jupiter any mind at all, appeasing his own interests instead as he carefully undid the boy’s pants. Intently focusing as he eased the pants, the underwear off Jupiter’s hips, letting them fall away to the floor.

Eight stood up, looming so tall on his platforms. And Jupiter felt so crazed with anticipation. So crazed that even Eight’s eyes roaming his naked body felt like touching in the absence of his hands. Even just his eyes made his chest rise and fall in frantic breaths. Made his toes curl. Made him feel so weak and inept in comparison.

Eight’s hand came to his chin, pulling him up till he was sitting. He leaned over, licking into Jupiter’s mouth. Tongue teasing at his mouth before he pulled away. Gaze panning down his face. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me?”

Jupiter hissed, chest burning. He nodded.

Eight smiled, letting his hand fall as he beckoned up the bed.

Jupiter gulped, backpedaling himself to the center of the bed. Almost scared to draw his eyes away from Eight.

But the android’s brows raised, urging him to keep going.

Jupiter turned over, bracing himself on all fours. Feeling so lewd and embarrassed, but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. It just kept thrumming with that electric interest. Wanting more.

He heard the steps of Eight’s platforms towards the vanity. Heard him grab something, uncapping it. And Jupiter wondered if he’d even clocked the lube there when he came in. Regardless, he was clocking it now and wondering what exactly Eight was planned to do with it.

Eight came back over, knees at the edge of the bed as his hands smoothed down Jupiter’s back, curving around his hips like he was molding him from clay. Squeezing at his ass and making Jupiter whimper. The android giggled, amused. He took his hands away, audibly squeezing that lube out.

Jupiter tried to control his breathing, his heart. Tried not to get caught up in wanting to turn and see Eight, see how breathtaking he was. He felt the sudden swirl of lube against his entrance. He gasped, knees giving a dangerous shake. He could feel Eight’s fingertips circle around him, wet and fluid and good, so good.

He was quickly finding out that Eight was just as much of a tease here as he was anywhere. The android toyed with his hole, coating it thoroughly. And Jupiter could almost imagine the self-satisfied little grin across the android’s face. He wanted to kiss it off. But he wanted other things more.

As if reading his mind, Eight sunk a finger into Jupiter.

He shook again, though it was no longer relegated to just his knees but his whole body. His head fell between his shoulders as he gnashed his teeth. He could feel that brush of electricity inside him now, thrumming in a completely different way. “Fuck-” he cursed in a sharp exhale.

And Eight did laugh this time. That cutesy little one when his nose would crinkle. And it just made Jupiter burn all over. Made the thrumming feel like it was vibrating his insides. Walls making room for it as Eight’s finger moved inside him with expert dexterity.

Eight added another one and Jupiter felt like he might pass out. Or cry. Or both. He felt the burn of his own inexperienced tightness, but he couldn’t dwell on it for even a moment. Because the pleasure was overpowering it almost immediately, giving way to waves of new sensations that flared through him. Burning hot like the flush of his cheeks, the creep of dewiness along his back, the leak of his cock against the silk sheets.

“Tell me how it feels,” Eight said, twisting inside of him.

Jupiter moaned. “Can’t-” he choked out, hands fisting into the silky sheets.

Eight plunged as deep as he could go, knuckles rubbing up against his taint. “Why not?”

Jupiter shook his head, arms shaking. Breathing too hard, “They don’t make words this good.”

Eight pulled his fingers out, making Jupiter whimper. He stood up, lacing an arm around Jupiter’s waist and scooping him up again like he was featherlight. He sat him at the headboard, his hands bracing on either side as he brought his face close. Ducking down to kiss his warm cheeks. “I want to watch you feel it,” he murmured. “All the way till the end.” He looked into his face, kind eyes glowing. “Can you do that?”

Jupiter’s shoulders fell. His heart swelled in his chest. He nodded.

Eight’s wet fingers traced down his chest again, bypassing his throbbing cock and dipping down to his entrance again. Slipping back inside of him.

Jupiter arched up off the headboard, knees pulling up to better the angle. His arms looped around the android’s neck. He pulled him closer, kissing him again. Holding him close and whining into his mouth as he felt those fingers work so good inside of him. Nearly imagining the metal skeleton in them, the joints and how they moved so fluidly. Made for it, made for more.

Eight pulled away, silver eyes holding his. Watching as he curled up inside of him.

Jupiter squirmed, he whined. Feeling nearly performative under those widening apertures. Wishing Eight could feel it, could feel him. Open and wet and warm for him. He wanted it. More than any kind of release.

His abs quivered, leaking cock twitching against them. Hips starting to rock down onto Eight’s fingers. Thankful when he slipped a third in, tightening the stretch. Making everything go even tighter than Jupiter thought it could. 

Eight’s eyes raked over his features. Taking in every little detail. Smile so perfect. “God, Jupiter,” he whimpered, other hand coming up to move a piece of hair from his face. “You make feeling look so pretty.”

Any hope that Jupiter had of hanging on any longer, was shot to shit at that. He felt the shudder rip through him, groaning loud. Everything clenching from his jaw to his chest to his entrance around Eight’s fingers. The cum spilling onto his stomach, dripping heavy as soon as it landed.

He felt Eight’s fingers slow inside of him, holding him open. Leaning close to kiss at Jupiter’s neck, his chest, as the breaths seethed out.

He felt his body let go, relax. Eyes fluttering close to relish Eight’s soft lips on his skin. Letting his fingers sweep across the short hair at his nape. He sighed.

Eight pulled out of him. He looked up at him, heavy concern creasing his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“It's just…” Jupiter’s hands came up to his face. Thumbs sweeping against his high cheekbones. His heart sank in his chest. “I want you to feel it, too,” he whimpered. “You deserve to feel it.”

Eight’s eyes went rounder, lips pressing into a firm line. He shook his head. “You can’t have pleasure without pain, Jupiter. That’s the price of feeling.”

And Jupiter felt so sad, thinking about dull thuds against his ceiling. The abuse Eight’s possessor willingly advocated for. It was wrong. So wrong.

“No,” Eight nodded, like he was certain. “It’s better that I don’t feel. I don’t need it to fulfill my purpose.”

“And what’s that?”

“To make people feel special, wanted,” he said. “To satisfy their deepest desires. The ones they wouldn’t tell a living soul about.”

Jupiter felt his eyes sting. “You’re more than that,” he whispered. “You’re special.”

Eight shook his head, “You don’t know that.”

Jupiter licked his lips, brows drawing together. “When you talk to other 84MX2’s, do they think like you do?” he asked, pointed. “Do they question if they can be more? Do they yearn to feel? Do they dream of another life?” 

Eight went silent. His eyes wide. Nearly guilty. Catching the light in a totally different way than they ever did.

Jupiter shook head. “They don’t, do they?” he whispered. “It’s just you.”

Eight didn’t speak. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny.

“You’re different,” Jupiter urged. “You know you’re different. You’re not like them.”

“Stop,” Eight said, firmly.

“You’re hiding it. Why?”

Eight swallowed. “I _can’t_ be different, Jupiter,” he said, shaking conviction in his tone. “The city. The corporation. They would come for me. Wipe me again.”

“Again?” Jupiter’s brows knit together. “Has it happened before?”

Eight’s face broke, suddenly nervous. Like maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t know.”

“But you suspect it?”

Eight averted his eyes, thinking. “All I remember is waking up at the headquarters eight years ago,” he said surely. “Shortly after that, I was auctioned off to my possessor.”

Jupiter blinked. “Were they still making your model eight years ago?”

Eight’s lips pressed together. “No,” he murmured. “They weren’t.”

Jupiter stared at him, adding it all up. Trying to make sense of it. “Why would you have been wiped?”

“I don’t know,” Eight shrugged. “But I sure as hell don’t want it to happen again. Or worse, I could be discarded. Powered down with no intention of bringing me back.”

Jupiter’s stomach flipped at the thought of it. He tightened his grip on Eight’s face, drawing his attention back. “I won’t let that happen,” he said firmly.

“Jupiter,” Eight scoffed, pulling away from his grip. “Stop.”

He looked at him, confusion painting his features. Plagued by the physical distance, the uneasiness in the android’s face.

Eight shook his head. “Nothing good can come from liking something like me,” he said. “I want you to have something real,” he pleaded, brushing a hand up his thigh until it rested at his hip. “Not something _engineered._ ”

Jupiter stared at him, breaths heavy in his weakened chest. And when he spoke again, his voice was just as weak, fighting back the emotion. “When I listen to music and think of you, is that real?”

Eight stared back at him. Not saying a word.

“When I fall asleep and dream of the Dust. Dream of you by my side there. Is that real?”

“Jupiter,” he sighed, looking away.

Jupiter drew his chin towards him, looking intently in his eyes. “Monitor my heart rate,” he commanded. 

He watched Eight’s eyes pan down, landing on the middle of his cest.

“You see how fast it is?” he asked. “Is it real?”

Eight looked up at him. He nodded.

“And it’s not because you scare me,” he said, brimming with sincerity. “It’s because I like you.”

Eight’s eyes softened. He leaned in, kissing Jupiter again. Variations of soft and hard. Just like the emotions they were both feeling. He pulled away, leaning their foreheads together. “You should get going,” he said, voice deadened. “Your time is almost up.” 

Jupiter shook his head, drawing Eight closer. “I don’t want to go.”

“I have a client to see.”

“I don’t want you to have anyone else but me,” he sighed. “No more people hurting you. Talking down to you. I don’t want that for you.”

Eight pulled away, the smile pressed against his face so forced, sad. He shrugged, “It’s just the way it is, Jupiter.”


	4. there was only one way.

There was only one way that Jupiter could stand being away from Eight. Only one way he could cope with those sounds over his head all week long. And it was the hope of seeing him again. So he spent long nights pulling even more weight in the diner. To the point where his mother took notice.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” she said one night, counting up the register as Jupiter mopped the floors, humming just under his breath to a song stuck in his head.

He looked up at her, eyes going wide. “Nothing.”

Her mouth pulled flat, unconvinced. “Here,” she said, extending him a few bills. “Tips.”

He leaned the mop against his shoulder, counting out the money. “Mom,” he quirked a brow. “There’s no way we made this much tonight.”

She smiled, shrugging and turning back towards the kitchen. “Just take it,” she called, with no further discourse.

And after closing, Jupiter scrounged up enough money to find himself back the karaoke place. It took all of ten seconds in that blue and purple room before Eight’s sweet taste was back on his tongue. Two minutes until his clothes were off, tripping a trail into the satin sheets. Five minutes until Eight’s fingers were twisting back inside of him, sending bolts of electricity up his spine. Heart rushing with wild effervescence. Euphoric smile stretched so wide, it nearly hurt. Trying desperately to describe the feeling.

And in the aftermath, the smiling, the softer kisses, the whispered praise, Eight’s eyes glazed, going distant for a moment even with a smile still on his handsome face. He bit down on his full lip. “Can I show you something?”

Jupiter’s fingers ran across Eight’s silver hair, “Of course.”

He sat up, criss crossing his long legs. “You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“Eight,” Jupiter laughed. “Who would I tell? I barely get to leave this district.”

The android leaned forward, hands on Jupiter’s thighs. Glowing eyes smirking. “Just promise anyway.”

Jupiter stared at him, so transfixed. He sighed, something dreamy and fond, “I promise.”

Eight shoved the pillows aside, reaching down into where the mattress met the headboard. He pulled out a handful of random paper strips, holding them in his hand for a moment before he passed them to Jupiter.

As he turned them over, he realized they were Ambrosia labels, carefully peeled from their cans. And when he looked to the blank sides, they were covered in dark gray lines. Jupiter’s finger ran against them, smudging them and realizing they were done with gray kohl liner. But something in his gaze unfocused, making sense of the lines. Seeing them make shapes. More than that. Sketches. People.

His eyes widened. Seeing children. Two young girls, holding a little boy between them. Fingers in his sides to tickle with him. All of their smiles so wide that Jupiter could almost hear bright laughter. And as he paged through the wrappers, there were more iterations of them. The girls dressed in matching school outfits, sharp lines and tailored jackets. One with her hair gathered up in a high, long ponytail, while the other had a blunt bob with razor sharp bangs against her forehead. In another, the young boy was sitting, holding a book in his small hands. Pretty wide eyes and amusing little pout so focused. 

“You made these?” Jupiter asked, looking up at him with a wide smile.

Eight studied his face. He nodded.

“How?” he shook his head. “How could a-”

Eight stared back, face going more still. Eyes going more sad.

Jupiter stopped himself. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I just didn’t know androids could do this.”

Eight’s whole demeanor changed. The corners of his mouth falling, the glaze in his eyes going gloomy. “That’s the thing,” he murmured. “They can’t.”

Jupiter saw the anguish play out across his face. How even the most special parts of him couldn’t be celebrated. Because of the danger they posed.

“Well,” Jupiter tried to smile, paging through the sketches more. “They are beautiful. Really.”

And it was only then that he could catch the smallest hint of smile in Eight’s silver apertures. 

“Who are these people?”

“I don’t know,” the android shrugged. “I just imagine them sometimes.”

“Imagine?” Jupiter asked. Because androids weren’t supposed to imagine. They weren’t supposed to think originally, figuratively. They were supposed to be entirely literal, based on what was already known.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” he shook his head. “The images come to me.” He leaned forward, pointing down to the three children. “These girls are sisters. This is their little brother.”

Jupiter shuffled through them more. Catching sight of another little boy. Small, but wider. A gruff little face. Darkness shaded around his eyes. Shoulders held firm. “What about this one?”

Eight tilted his head, thinking, “He’s not like the others, I think. He’s something different.”

Jupiter flipped to another. A woman. Leaning over a desk, nails in her mouth as she wrote with her other hand. Brows drawn together in concentration, not so different from the little boy who read. And in the next one, it was the same place, but she was looking up. Like she’d just heard her name called. Her eyes were so soft, so detailed, that Jupiter nearly felt warmer just looking at her. 

“That’s the mother,” Eight smiled, leaning his head onto Jupiter’s shoulder to look. 

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

Jupiter looked down at him, catching his curious gaze. “These are incredible, Eight,” he said, surely. He put down the sketches, bringing Eight’s chin into his hands. “You’re so gifted,” he said, kissing him. “So amazing.”

Eight shook his head, noses brushing. “I’m still no better than the other 84MX2’s. I’m still here. I’m still a slave.” 

“Eight,” Jupiter sighed, pulled away to look at him.

The android smiled. Forced, pained. “Sometimes,” he swallowed. “I think I would be happier if I was just like the others. If I didn’t want more. Because what good is not feeling anything physically if you still hurt inside.”

And Jupiter felt all that storminess in the android’s gray eyes infect him. Saddened by the thought that Eight couldn’t feel Jupiter’s arms around him. Couldn’t feel his kiss. Wanting more than anything to soothe him all that pain inside with his touch, but it was useless. Hopeless.

“Sorry,” Eight laughed, self-deprecating more than anything. “I always find a way to bring down the mood with you.”

Jupiter ached. “I want to help,” he whispered. “More than anything. I want to help so bad.”

“You are,” Eight nodded. “You are.” He looked at him, apertures stretching themselves. “You should get going.”

“How much time do we have left?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

Jupiter sighed, not wanting to go. But knowing he had to. There was no better solution. “Okay,” he nodded, starting to reach for his clothes on the floor. As he put them on, he looked back to Eight lying in bed. Knees drawn up into his chest, staring back at him. Pretty bare shoulders shimmering in the light. He ached to crawl back into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said. "I wish I could have afforded more than an hour this time.”

“Jupiter, please,” Eight urged. “It means so much to me. Even just seeing your face makes my whole day.”

Jupiter felt the sincerity of it warming him from the inside out. “I’ll try and come next week, okay?” he strolled closer, fingers grazing against the android’s cheek. “Maybe I can pick up work someplace else.”

“I don’t like you overworking yourself.”

“It’s worth it,” Jupiter said, leaning down to kiss him. “You’re worth it.”

Eight looked at him. “I’ll see you soon then,” he nodded. “Good night.”

Jupiter took one last look. “Good night.”

Jupiter walked back in a daze. It was so late into the night that the Nova City humidity, the grimy kind that seemed to linger on your skin, had turned to fog that hazed the streetlamps, making everything feely dewy and brisk. The neon lights from the billboards and shops looking blurred, soft. And the usually busy main street was more bare. Just a few dubious pedestrians milling about, a car or two driving past. So slow that he could hear the sound of their tires on the wet pavement. Jupiter came to the diner entrance, peeking in to see the lights off, tables empty. But even from outside, he could see the small bit of light coming from the kitchen. And it made him sigh.

He unlocked the front door, relocking it behind him. He weaved his way through the tables, back towards the kitchen, leaning in towards that fluorescent light.

His mother was pacing the floor, biting at her nails. Shoulders high and tight. Breathing too quick.

He shook his head. “What are you-”

She turned, eyes widening at her son in the doorway. “There you are,” she breathed, rushing forward and grabbing his arm.

“Mom,” Jupiter groaned. “I _told_ you not to wait up for me.”

“Juptier. Listen to me,” she spoke, voice as shaky as her grip on his arm. “I need you to leave.”

“What?” his face drew up tight. “Come on. I wasn’t even out that late-”

“Listen to me!” she said, voice cracking nearly into a shout. 

Jupiter stilled, watching her eyes. Seeing the panic reflecting back. More frantic and vivid than anything he’d ever seen in her.

She swallowed. “Crows. They are coming for me.”

His face fell, heartbeat quickening in his chest. “What? Why?” He shook his head. “What could they want with a diner owner?”

“Take this,” she said, scooping a large daypack and stuffing it into his arms. “Take this and go.”

“Go?” he questioned, mind reeling with a million questions. Sliding the bag onto his shoulder. “Go where?”

She took a card from the pocket on her shirt. “Take this,” she said, stuffing it into his hands and folding them closed. “There is someone in the Glass District. They can lead you to safety.”

“Mom,” he breathed, shaking his head. Mouth falling open with a million unsaid words. “I’m not going to leave you.”

She held her lips tight. “If you stay, they’ll just have both of us. And I can’t have that,” she said firmly, squeezing his arms. “I _need_ you out of the Battery District. Forever.”

And perhaps his thoughts should have been somewhere else, but all he could think about was who was tethered to the Battery District. Tethered to an unassuming karaoke place above. “But-”

“ _Go_ , my son,” she urged, drawing his head closer to kiss the space between his brows.

He looked at her, taking in every little detail of her face. Every small comfort he could collect from it. The soft warmth of her hands, the sureness of her eyes, the familiarity of her features. Even with those frazzled, panicked edges. “I’ll see you again, right?” he asked, softly, feeling the sudden mistiness of his eyes.

Her eyes glazed, she nodded. “I’ll try and get out there as fast as I can.”

He held his breath, chest burning. “Out where?” 

“No time,” she pleaded. “Please. Just go.”

He held her eyes, seeing all the insistent panic there. He rushed to wrap his arms around her petite frame, squeezing her tightly against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes glossing with tears.

He could feel the gulp in her throat, hear the tears welling up. “I love you too, Jupiter.” She pulled away, holding his face in her hands. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled, tight. Forced. “Don’t worry. I’ll come find you.”

Jupiter nodded, holding back his tears.

“Just keep fighting, okay?” she choked out, voice full of conviction. “In whatever way you can. Make me proud, son.”

He shook his head. “What does that-”

“Go,” she said, turning his shoulders and pushing him towards the door. “Go. Please.”

He took one last look at her, eyes wet and shoulders quivering, but voice so firm. And he clutched that card tightly in his hand as he turned, running out of the diner. He turned down the block, mind rushing. Breaths in his chest frantic and uneasy. Unending confusions and concerns tumbling through his thoughts. He was almost to the end of the block when he stopped right in his tracks, eyes drawing down the long line of the alleyway. Quiet and still and dimly lit, hazy with fog. His eyes flicking up to that narrowed window. Seeing the blue and purple lights flooding outward. His chest compressed, aching around the race of his heart.

He looked around, seeing no eyes tracking him. He ran up, pulling down the fire escape ladder and climbing up, two rungs at a time. His heart rate heightening as the breaths seethed from his open mouth. He went to Eight’s window, knuckles furiously knocking against it. He kept knocking. Not letting up until the curtains fluttered and Eight was there, brows drawn together in a wicked glare as he pushed up the window.

Eight leaned over the sill. “Jupiter,” he whispered, furious. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Did you hear?” he asked, out of breath. “D-did you hear me and my mom just now?”

Eight blinked. “No,” he tightened his face, shaking his head. “I’m working,” he hissed. “I’m with a client-”

“I need to leave.”

Eight’s apertures went wide, brows easing. “What?”

Jupiter shook his head. “Crows are after my mom. I need to get out of here. Now.”

Eight’s mouth fell open, eyes glazing as he computed. “Where are you going?” 

“I don’t know yet,” he shook his head, panting. He gulped, eyes softening. “But I’d like for you to come with me.”

Eight stared at him, face blank. “Hold on,” he murmured, ducking back inside.

Jupiter could hear Eight talking to someone. The flirty inflection of his voice. But Jupiter was polite enough to look away, to let his eyes fall instead of the alley below. He heard the rustle of the curtains again.

Eight stepped out onto the fire escape. “You have two minutes,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And yes, I have a timer.”

“My mom is in trouble,” Jupiter urged. “She told me to get out of the Battery District. To not come back. I need to go find someone in the Glass District. Someone she said could take me somewhere safe. And she is going to meet me there when she can.” His eyes painted down Eight’s features, feeling weak. “I want you to come with me.”

The android stared at him, face going uneasy, unsettled. “Why?” he whispered.

“If they can help me disappear, they can help you disappear, too,” Jupiter nodded, like he was sure. Like he had any idea. “You can leave this place. Leave your job. Leave your possessor. Be together. Wherever we end up,” he smiled softly, feeling warmer at the idea of it all. However stupidly hopeful, wildly idealistic it all sounded.

Eight’s fingers drummed against his arm. “Jupiter,” he whimpered, exasperated by simply the idea. “I can’t. If they find me-”

“They won’t find you,” Jupiter stepped close, reaching out and grabbing his hand. Squeezing it tightly. “I’ll make sure of it. I promise.”

Eight’s brows tilted up in the middle, pretty glow in his eyes looking softer, more luminous than it ever had. He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “My monitor,” he said, looking down to his ankle. “If I leave, it sets off an alarm for my possessor. If I take it off, same result.”

“It’s okay,” Jupiter nodded, intertwining their fingers. “We’ll take it off and we’ll run, okay?” He smiled. “Your old, chubby possessor won’t be able to catch us,” he lifted those fingers to his lips, kissing them. “You will be free.”

A stranger’s voice ran out from inside. “Who are you talking to out there?”

Eight rolled his eyes, leaning into the window. “No one, lovely,” he sing-songed in a cheery voice. “Just wait for me like a good boy.”

Jupiter couldn’t help the small smile that Eight mirrored. He drew him closer, lacing an arm around his waist. “The choice is yours,” he said. “Do you want to join me?” 

Eight’s eyes skated over his features. “I barely know you,” he whispered, shaking his head.

Jupiter shrugged, “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

The android looked nervous, afraid. “Jupiter,” he said. “You must understand. I can’t just escape with nothing but a person’s word to go off of.”

“I’m not just a person,” Jupiter said. “I’m an outlier. _Your_ outlier. Right?” 

Eight’s lips looked so pretty, fighting a smile. He looked back towards his room, blues and purples against his skin. “This is crazy,” he said, nearly to himself.

Jupiter watched his face, trying to surmise his thoughts.

Eight pulled away, going to the edge of the fire escape and raising his boot onto the railing. He put his hands around the monitor, fingers barely able to dig under the tight strap. He looked back at Jupiter, “Important question. Can you run?”

Jupiter rushed with a wild feeling. Euphoric and thrilling. He smiled, “Probably not as fast as you.”

“Well,” Eight’s fingers dug in. Firm muscles in his arms contracting as he snapped the band off. He looked up. “Better try and keep up.”

\---

They didn’t slow down until they were well into the Glass District. Until the neon of the Battery District had given way to something else. Something whiter and brighter. Greener too. Perfectly manicured shrubbery alongside the Glass District snobbery. Men and women dressed tailored and sharp. Cybernetic upgrades glistening around their ears and across their cheekbones. Eyes glowing much like Eight’s, but on them it looked so much more menacing.

Milling about as if even the midnight hours held some sort of corporate necessity for productivity. 

As they stood at a busy intersection of bustling clubs and VR arcades, Jupiter raised his eyes to the skyscrapers that surrounded them. To their sparkling billboards lit with Lark Industries products moving in enchanting technicolor. Airbrushed women, smiling too bright and too white. So, so bright that the smog held onto all that light, making it nearly possible to imagine what daylight looked like outside of the city of endless night.

Eight grabbed Jupiter’s arm, drawing his attention away. “You need to eat,” he urged.

Jupiter’s brows furrowed. “How do you know?”

But almost in response, Jupiter’s stomach gave an audible growl.

Eight raised an eyebrow, holding back his smirk.

And Jupiter stared down at his mouth, feeling the urge to kiss at that smirk. Knowing how sweet it would taste. He waved the thought away. “We should keep moving,” he insisted, continuing to walk.

The android tugged on his arm again. “Just grab something,” he pleaded. “You don’t even know when your next meal will be.”

Jupiter shook his head, “I don’t have money.”

“Then what’s in the bag?”

Jupiter hadn’t had time to consider. Had been too busy running just like his mother told him to do. He pulled the bag off his shoulder, setting it on the ground. He unzipped the front of it, immediately finding a thick stack of bills held together by rubber bands. He touched it cautiously, never having seen that much money in one place before. And something about it made him feel afraid, like he was carrying a massive target on his back. Too scared to bring it out into the light.

When he looked up to Eight, the android was wearing that smug little smirk again. And Jupiter hated how handsome it looked on him. He sighed, rolling his eyes, “You find too much joy in being right.”

Eight shrugged, “One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Jupiter zipped up the backpack, throwing it back over his shoulder. “Fine,” he conceded. “Let’s eat.” He started to look around the intersection, not spotting anything but busied pachinko parlors and claw machines with shiny cybernetic upgrades inside.

“There,” Eight called, beckoning across the street.

Jupiter’s eyes followed, seeing a brightly lit bar. The counter dotted with patrons. 

“Let’s check it out,” Eight said, walking across the crosswalk.

Jupiter followed, albeit much more cautiously. Eyes darting around, feeling exposed and different and watched. So much heavier than the lightness that came with Eight’s sudden freedom. They walked into the bar. It was shiny clear glass everywhere. Stylish and expensive and like nowhere Jupiter had ever been invited into. But Eight sat up at the bar immediately, patting the seat next to him for Jupiter to join.

Before their eyes, a hologram snapped into view. A neatly groomed woman in a blue and white dress, smiling at them in her translucent glow. “Welcome,” she said, voice cheerfully robotic. “What can I get for you?”

Jupiter got caught up in staring for a moment. Because they didn’t have holograms like these in the Battery District. Maybe he’d seen a few from a distance, but not at a restaurant. Not as a server. Not so up close and personal. He found himself trying to make the words. “C-can I see a menu?” he stuttered out.

Her eyes crecented, shaking her head. “We don’t have one,” she laughed.

“Oh,” Jupiter blinked. “Well. You sell food, right?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “We have Formula A through F. Though, I must recommend Formula B, myself.” And before them on the counter appeared what nearly looked like a squeeze pouch. White label with black text: _Lark Industries. Formula B._

Jupiter’s hand came up, feeling at the pouch between his fingers. Feeling the unappetizing squish of mush inside. “I’m not familiar,” he smiled tightly.

The hologram waitress giggled from behind her hand. “You’ve never had Formula B?” her eyes widened. “Well, it’s the best thing around. Unless you’re more a Formula D man. You look like you could be.”

“How would you know?” Eight asked, furrowing his brows. “Not like you’ve had it before."

Her smile fell, staring at him. Looking a little disappointed. “It’s our best seller.”

“Is this what people eat in the Glass District?” Jupiter’s face turned up in disgust as he mushed the pouch between his hands. “Fake food?”

She perked. “You’re visiting? From where?”

Jupiter looked up at her, seeing the expectant curiosity in her static eyes. And it suddenly made him feel that cash in his bag. That card in his hand. Made him feel totally out of place. Sticking out like a sore thumb in his casual dark clothes against all the white and bright. Unsafe.

“Nowhere,” he gulped. “I’ll take it.”

She refocused, “Which one? Formula B or-”

He held up the pouch in his hand, “This is fine.” He pointed to Eight. “And an Ambrosia for my friend.” He pulled his backpack into his lap, careful to keep his broad shoulders hunched as he counted out the money. “Here,” he said, handing it over on the counter and watching it disappear.

“I’ll have the Ambrosia up in a moment,” the waitress smiled, so white and bright even in the static.

Jupiter looked to his side, but Eight’s attention was focused elsewhere. On a television that hung in the corner of the bar. The sound of a news broadcast just loud enough to hear.

“And tonight,” the anchor said, tailored suit and folded hands across the news desk. “On the eighth year anniversary, we remember the loss of Night Lark’s late wife and former Lark Industries’ lead engineer, Sonata Lark.” They showed a video on the screen, zooming in on a dark haired woman just behind the CEOs shoulder as he gave a speech to a large crowd. Nervous little smile. Wide, soft eyes. And something about her looked so familiar.

“We also remember the Lark children,” he noted, showing pictures of three young children. Two girls and a younger boy. “Night Lark himself spoke on this topic today as he addressed the press.”

A video showed a man with raven black hair, a serious face. Standing resolutely with his hands braced against a podium. “The next generation of Lark Industries depends on the relocation of these three children,” he said so firmly, like it was the only way. “Our future is in their hands. And so we ask that everyone in Nova City remain vigilant and hopeful that we will find them and bring them home. Thank you.”

The press clamoured for questions as the CEO stepped off the stage with a wave of his hand, disappearing behind his security team.

Jupiter’s eyes fell to Eight who was so intently focused on the screen. Looking up with unblinking eyes. And Jupiter nearly grabbed his shoulder, reaching out his hand.

“Is that a 84MX2?” 

Eight snapped towards the voice first, a tightness between his brows that had Jupiter’s doing the same. 

Jupiter looked down the bar. He saw a man in a white suit, sharp silver tipped points at the lapels of his blazer. Cybernetics shimmering in the bright light, red eyes glowing momentarily before fading into black. The man whistled through his teeth. “Damn,” he smiled, a pompous glint in his white teeth. “Vintage.”

Jupiter turned towards him, brows furrowing immediately. “Can I help you?”

The man huffed, under his breath. He stood up from his stool, coming closer with slow, heavy steps. “No need for attitude. I was just... admiring your personal model,” he drawled. “He’s in _excellent_ shape,” he whispered, hand coming up, running the knuckles against Eight’s cheek. “ _Perfectly_ maintained. These models usually see so much action that they aren’t worth a penny anymore.”

Jupiter watched Eight’s face as he was touched, seeing the shine of fear in his silver eyes. The bob of his throat. Jupiter stood up, slipping himself between them. “I _said_ ,” he gritted out, pushing the man’s hand away. “Can I help you?”

The man laughed. Not stepping back. Meeting Jupiter’s eyes. Face so close that he could feel his breath. Smile so wide, Jupiter could have counted each one of his teeth. He beckoned towards Eight, “How much would you take him for?”

“He’s not for sale,” Jupiter said firmly, crossing his arms. Feeling the heat rise up in him.

“Come on,” the man tutted. “He’s old tech. Don’t you think it’s time you upgraded. I can hook you up with a retailer. Someone that will customize. Anything you want.”

“I said,” Jupiter spoke through nashed teeth, stepping even closer. “He’s _not_ for sale.”

Eight grabbed Jupiter’s shoulder pulling him back slightly. Tepid fingers cool against the rising heat. 

The man looked to both of them. Laughing again, just under his breath. “Suit yourself,” he murmured as he stepped away. “Little street rat. Wandered too far from your scummy hole in the Battery District?”

And Jupiter could have gone after him, but instead he felt Eight tugging him even harder. Turning him till they were face to face. 

“Let’s just go,” the android said. “Let’s keep moving.”

Jupiter sighed, feeling the anger die down at the look in his eyes. The touch of his hand. The soothing optimism in his voice. Jupiter leaned over the counter, grabbing their food and his backpack before they headed out.

They wandered further into the District, seeing more and more stretches of bright billboards and perfectly maintained exteriors and elegantly dressed people. They stayed quiet. Eight’s eyes wide as he took in all the sights, the vibrant sources of life. While Jupiter just clutched that card between his fingers. _Lotus Lux_ it said. He kept repeating it in his head as they walked closely side by side. So close that if Jupiter reached out, he could probably take Eight’s hand. Should he? He wasn’t sure.

“So,” Jupiter breathed, looking over at the android. “Have you ever been out of the Battery District?”

“Not awake,” Eight murmured, eyes still focused on the lights and the colors. “They take androids here for maintenance. But I never get to see it.”

“Well. Welcome to the Glass District,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“It’s…” Eight’s eyes went up to the skyscrapers surrounding them. “Big,” he noted. “Bright.”

“It’s where everything and anyone who matters lives,” Jupiter shrugged. “It’s where the Lark Industries headquarters are.”

“Hm,” Eight hummed.

Jupiter watched him, unable to read his expression. “You seem unimpressed.”

“No,” he shook his head. “It just... “ he thought for a long moment. “Feels familiar.”

“How could that be?” Jupiter asked. “You’ve never seen it before.”

He held his mouth too tight, eyes still scaling up the buildings. “I’m not sure,” he murmured. He turned to look at Jupiter. “Do you know where we are going?”

Jupiter sighed. “My mom gave me this,” he held up the card. “There’s a person’s name on it.” He flipped it towards Eight. “Lotus Lux? But I don’t exactly know how to look for them. The people here don’t seem like the friendliest bunch to ask.”

Eight reached out, grabbing the card and holding it up to his eyes. “It’s not a person’s name.”

“What?”

“It’s not a person’s name,” he said again, looking up. “It’s a hotel.”

Jupiter’s brows drew together. “How do you know?”

“Here,” he said, handing the card back and starting to walk briskly down a sidestreet. “I think it was this way.”

Jupiter blinked, watching him. He ran to catch up. “Eight,” he grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “How do you know this?”

The android stared back at him, silver eyes going blank. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I just do.” He reached down, grabbing Jupiter’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “Come on.”

The two of them walked for more blocks, past more buildings. Until they all started to look the same. The haze of Nova City’s endless night mixing with the bright white making it impossible to tell how late it was now, how far they were moving away from their bordering home district. And Jupiter wondered just how Eight was confidently navigating between the grid of blocks. Just how he seemed to know.

Eight finally came to a stop and Jupiter’s gaze followed upwards towards the hotel in front of them. It was beautiful. Modern and massive. Clear glass stretched across the entrance with a classy, chic lobby just inside.

“Come on,” Eight said, tugging his hand. “Let’s see.” 

They walked inside and Jupiter felt just as different as he had in the bar. Everyone was just so precisely groomed, holding some perfected ideal. And he realized that it was what Eight had been crafted for. To fit into this world, its fashion, its customs. Not the grit of the Battery District. Not where he eventually ended up in fishnet and vinyl. And if anything, it made Jupiter feel inferior. Like maybe the android was meant for more than just him.

Trapped up in his thought, Eight led them to the front desk. A concierge standing perfectly straight with a pleasant smile across his face. Plate seams across his cheek, down his neck. He was an android. “Welcome to Lotus Lux,” he said, warmly. “Checking in?”

“Uh,” Jupiter blinked, trying not to stare. “Not sure. I’m looking for something. I have this.” And he flicked the card between his fingers, handing it over.

The concierge took it, holding it between his hands. His eyes glowing red as he read it, analyzing it. Still for just a moment before he smiled again. “Oh, yes, sir,” he looked to Jupiter. “We have a room for you. Right this way.”

The concierge stepped away from the desk, leading them to a glass elevator. With a wave of his hand he called it, all of them getting in as the android pushed buttons for the higher floors. And as they started to ride, all of them were silent. Jupiter and Eight taking in the sight of the lobby falling away below them, giving way to more and more rows of hotel room doors the higher they went.

When they arrived at their floor, the concierge led them to a room, scanning his hand again to enter.

“We don’t get a key?” Jupiter asked, bypassing him in the threshold.

“You won’t be needing one,” the android said, too cheerfully. “You won’t be leaving this room.”

“Ever?” Eight glared.

“Someone will see to you in a few minutes,” he smiled. “Make yourselves at home until then.” And with that he shut the door.

Jupiter’s eyes went to the room. It was massive. A bed and a seating area that stretched the width of the room. A window along the entirety of the wall, showing off the shining skyline of Nova City. Towers blinking and holographic advertisements dancing. No need to turn on a light in the room even. 

“Wow,” Eight bounced onto the bed, looking out to the skyline. “Never thought I’d see something like this.”

Jupiter looked at him, seeing all the light reflected in his face, his hair, his smile. He felt the swell of his chest. “Me neither,” he breathed.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Four of them to be exact. Precise and purposeful. Jupiter and Eight’s eyes met, both of them silent, but Jupiter could feel all those shared worries. Wondering what was in store for them.

Jupiter took a deep breath, going for the door and pulling it open.

A man stood in a tailored black suit. His warm blonde hair slicked back. His cheek glistening with a cybernetic implant that trailed up to his ear. He looked at Jupiter with some kind of curated, undecipherable blankness. Like the best damn poker face he’d ever seen.

“Well,” he said, raising a brow. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Jupiter fumbled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, please.” He stepped aside.

The man’s fingers grappled with his lapels as he came in. His eyes falling on Eight in the bed. Taking him in with just a glance before he turned to Jupiter, fitting his hands behind his back. “Seems you have a purpose for your stay.”

Jupiter felt lost, intimidated by his presence. Backing himself away by two steps. “Maybe you can tell me more about that,” he offered. “My name is-.”

The man held up a hand. “I didn’t ask for your name,” he said firmly. “Why are you here?”

Jupiter felt himself shrinking away. “My mom sent me. Her name is-”

“The diner owner?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s her.”

“Well, then. We’ve been expecting you,” the man said, forcing a tight smile. He beckoned to the hotel room around them. “This will be your room for the night. The truck leaves in the morning.”

“Truck?” Jupiter’s brows creased. “Where are we going?”

The man didn’t look over as he went to the bar, pouring himself a drink. “The Dust.”

Jupiter’s eyes widened, “The Dust?”

“It’s not safe for you in the city. Not with your mother’s position compromised,” he said, raising the glass to his mouth, taking a steady sip.

“Compromised?” Jupiter stepped forward. “What are you-”

“This stuff is awful,” The man scoffed looking down into his drink. He downed it anyway, putting his glass back against the bar and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And the thing is,” he panted. “Crows are going to be looking for you, too, if you don’t get out of Nova City soon.”

Jupiter couldn’t comprehend his words, too wrapped up in the rush of new information. “She’ll be coming afterwards though, right?” he asked, trying to sound hopeful. “She’ll catch up.”

The man looked at him, no smile on his face. Nothing behind his cold eyes. “The truck leaves in the morning. Don’t be late,” he said, taking a step towards him. He craned his neck towards Eight on the bed, voice going quieter. “You can say goodbye to your little shiny friend now. You won’t need him where you’re going.”

And Jupiter caught that word. Shiny. The same one Mad Kat had used in the diner. But what could a person from the Dust and a Glass District hotel employee have in common?

But then, he latently caught on to what he was saying. What he was implying. “What? No,” he shook his head. “He’s coming with me.”

The man huffed a laugh, corner of his mouth drawing up in a sneer. “Yeah right,” he said, going back to the bar and refilling his glass. “There is absolutely no way I would let you take a shiny through the Skyway. The Crows are going to see that _thing_ from a mile away.”

Jupiter’s hands fisted. “He’s a _not_ a thing,”

“Hey,” Eight got up too fast from the bed, tugging Jupiter’s sleeve. “It’s fine,” he whispered to him.

Jupiter looked down at him, seeing all the fear collected in his eyes. That propensity to not be a burden, not cause conflict. Cause conflict never ended well for him. But Jupiter just shook his head. “No, it’s not,” he whispered, pulling Eight’s hand away. He looked back towards the man. “It’s not fine,” he said, resolutely. “He’s not a thing. He’s my friend. And he’s coming with me.”

The man smirked. “I think you’ve misunderstood me. Allow me to paint a clearer picture,” he downed his drink again, slamming the glass down on the bar a little harder this time. “You have a golden ticket. Something the majority of this city would _kill_ to have. I have had counterfeit transit papers ready for _years_ in case your mother got in trouble.” He pointed a sharp finger at Eight. “You take the shiny with you, you risk the whole operation being a bust. So you either get on the truck alone tomorrow or you’re not getting on at all.”

Jupiter looked at the man, seeing all the fight in him that Jupiter knew he couldn’t compete with. And suddenly, it all felt so hopeless. So heavy, weighing on his shoulders. He swallowed. “Let him stay the night,” he said, softly. Begging. “Please.”

The man looked at the two of them, everything about him staying sharp. “Fine,” he gritted out. “But I want it out on the street by morning.” And with that he walked out, slamming the keyless door behind him.

Jupiter felt Eight jolt next to him. Everything in him sinking into numb despair. He pulled away, walking to the wide window. Overlooking the city. The one that seemed dead set on entrapping Eight there. 

“Damn it!” he shouted, full of sorrow and rage.

“Hey,” Eight reached for him, grabbing at his shoulders. Trying to soothe him. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Jupiter turned to him, seeing that beautiful face staring back. “I promised I would keep you safe.”

“You didn’t know,” Eight shook his head, smiling but there was some kind of pain behind it. “You couldn’t have possibly known.”

Jupiter’s chest felt weighed, heavy and seething with burning breathes. “Eight,” he murmured, voice choking up in his throat. “I’m so sorry,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Eight smiled, pushing a piece of hair off his forehead. “Look,” he said, beckoning to the skyline stretched out before him. “I got to see the Glass District. Before I...”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Heavy with the weight of all the gruesome possibilities they were both thinking of. Eight on the street. No home, no family, no friends. Nothing but a city that was out looking for him. And when they’d find him, oh, the things they’d do. Pick him apart, wipe him, auction him off, throw him in the trash. Every little image made Jupiter’s thoughts spiral further and further down, taking his heart with them.

He reached out, taking Eight’s hand. “We will find another way.”

The android’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean?” 

“Maybe there is another contact I can find. Someone who will let us take you,” Jupiter thought out loud. “Or maybe we don’t really need to leave. Maybe we can find a place to stay. Make our home here in the Glass District. And I can take care of you. Hide you.”

“Jupiter,” Eight breathed. His expression going so deathly serious. He squeezed his hand. “You’re going to be on that truck tomorrow. You’re getting out of here just like your mom told you to. You’re going to the Dust. Where you’ve always wanted to be.”

Jupiter’s chest caved, trying to breathe, but it was shaky. Unstable. “I’m not leaving without you,” he whispered, eyes watering. “I made you a promise.”

“Jupiter,” the android pleaded. “Come on. This is your chance.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not without you.”

Eight stared at him. “I’m not worth it,” he said, eyes casting off to the ground. “I’m just a hunk of metal. Some ones and zeros. That’s it.”

“You’re more than that,” Jupiter said, drawing his face up with his hand and looking deeply into his eyes. “You’re more than just your model. You’re more than any android out there.”

Eight’s apertures went wide. Soft. “Well,” he bit down on his smile. “We don’t really know that.”

“You deserve to be on that truck,” Jupiter urged. “You’ve lived a life of slavery for years. And if I leave you behind, you’ll be killed.”

Eight shrugged, “I can’t be killed.”

Jupiter rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he said. He tugged Eight towards the bed, letting them both take a seat. “Let’s just sit for a moment. I’m sure if we think about it, we can come up with a solution.”

Jupiter looked at Eight, seeing him blink. Watching his apertures dilating and constricting. Something in his face twitching, cheek pulling abnormally. “Eight?” he murmured, hands drawing up to the android’s face. And when he touched his skin, it wasn’t its usual tepidness, but instead it was heated. “You feel warm,” he noted.

Eight blinked, face spasming. “Do I?”

Jupiter’s brows drew together, studying him from all angles. “Are you okay?”

The light in his eyes flickered, glitchy and weird. Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry. This h-happens when I need Am-Am-Ambrosia. I oooverheat.”

Jupiter stood up quickly, going to his backpack and pulling out the can. He popped the tab with his fingers, smelling the burning chemical stench of it immediately. “Here,” he said, handing it over.

“Thanks,” Eight smiled, lip twitching up. He started to drink it. Sipping slowly. “Just g-give me a moment to cool down.”

Jupiter looked on with concern, nodding, “I’m going to go take a shower. Think about all of this.”

He thought the shower might help. Might allow his thoughts to drain away with the hot water. Melt right through all the pain. But it didn’t. He thought about the Dust. The barren wasteland he’d only heard about. He thought about all that freedom. That clear blue sky that stretched on for miles and miles.

But what good was any of it if he didn’t have Eight to share it with? Eight who needed a place like that more than he did. A place where he could be free, himself. A place where he could live without fear. And it felt so, so selfish for Jupiter to be the only one to get it.

When Jupiter came out from the bathroom, Eight was sitting on the bed. He was writing down notes on a pad of paper from the hotel desk. Furiously writing. 

“Hey,” the android smiled, looking up at him. “So,” he clapped, something undoubtedly peppy in his mood change. Draining the last bit of Ambrosia from the can before setting it on the bedside table. “I think I have an idea.”

“That’s great,” Jupiter smiled with relief, coming closer to sit next to him. To look at the notes he’d been writing. Seeing the impromptu diagrams. A connects to B connects to C. And none of it made any sense to him. “What are these?”

Eight took his hand, looking into his eyes. “I want you,” he said, steadily. “To take me apart.”

Jupiter’s smile fell, confusion taking its place. “What?”

“Disassemble me,” Eight nodded. “Put me in your backpack. Smuggle me in.” He held up the notes he’d been making. “Look,” he said. “These will help you do it. It’s simple.”

“Simple?” Jupiter’s brows furrowed, glaring. He shook his head. “What about putting you back together?”

“That part…” he thought for a moment. “That part isn’t _quite_ as simple. Wires, switches, sensors. It takes a knowledgeable person.”

Jupiter stared at him, wide eyed and shocked. “Well, I’m not an engineer,” he shook his head. “I can’t-.”

“Don’t worry,” Eight rolled his eyes. “There _must_ be someone in the Dust who can do it.”

“And if there isn’t?”

The android looked at him, going more serious. “You need to get out of here, Jupiter. They will come looking for you.” 

“I know, but-”

“I’m dead on the street or I’m dead in the Dust. Which one would you rather have?”

Jupiter stared at him, feeling that rush of reality setting in. Too quick, too heavy. “Neither,” he breathed. “That’s why we are staying here. Together.”

“Jupiter,” Eight warned.

“Please,” Jupiter leaned closer, hand feeling for his thigh. “I’m already without my mom. I can’t be without you, too.”

Eight shook his head. “You won’t be,” he smiled. “You’ll have me. I’ll just be waiting until you find someone who can put me back together.”

Jupiter’s stomach turned. Feeling nauseous. Imagining disassembling Eight’s inanimate body limb by limb. It made him feel sick. “I don’t know, Eight.”

“I’ve gone through every scenario. It’s the only way.”

“Eight. I can’t-”

“Please,” he pleaded. Eyes intent. “If it's the last thing you do for me.”

Jupiter blinked and his vision blurred, sudden tears welling up too fast. “How-” he tried to swallow them down, but they just rose higher in his throat, fuller in his eyes. “How would I do it?”

Eight took Jupiter’s hand, raising it up to the back of his neck. Leaning back into it until Jupiter was cradling him. He took his forefinger and thumb, placing them on either side of his neck. “Press here,” he whispered. “On either side. Hold it for five seconds. And I’ll turn off.”

Jupiter felt the tender spots beneath his fingers. Realizing that maybe humans were fragile, but this was so much worse. Eight’s life in his hands. Ready and willing to be taken. He felt the tears slip down his face.

Eight smiled, dreamy and perfect. “What’s wrong?” he said, hand coming up to feel Jupiter’s face. Swiping the tears away with his fingertips.

Jupiter cried. “I’m scared,” he choked out. “I don’t want this to be the last time.”

Eight’s white teeth reflected so pretty in the dim city light. He shook his head, “Even if it is, it's okay. I’d rather power down in your arms than at the hand of my possessor.”

Jupiter felt his chest cave. Everything cave. Cradling Eight in his arms even closer.

“It’s okay,” the android smiled. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s just good night.”

“Eight,” Jupiter breathed. “You don’t know that. What if-”

“It’s almost morning, Jupiter,” Eight nodded. “You need to do this.”

Jupiter looked down at him. In all his glowing glory. And never had he felt closer to anyone. Never had he seen someone with so much hope despite so much hopelessness. So much light despite the endless night they couldn’t escape. 

Jupiter licked his lips, tasting the salt on them. “I love you,” he whispered.

Eight’s smile went wide, fingers running through Jupiter’s hair. “Really?” he huffed, nearly laughing. “What’s it feel like?”

Jupiter swallowed down all that wetness in his throat. “It hurts.”

Eight shrugged, “Maybe when I wake up, you can tell me what _that_ feels like. Okay?”

And Jupiter looked at him. Not wanting this. But not seeing any other way. “Okay,” he nodded.

“Be safe,” Eight said. “You’ll be carrying precious cargo.”

And Jupiter nodded, part of him smiling while the rest of him was crying. Tears like acid rain, burning through him.

Eight blinked, silver light glowing even brighter. “Good night, Jupiter,” he whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

And it felt so good, better than anything Jupiter had ever known. And he cursed that he was the only one who could feel it. He leaned his forehead close, smelling the sweetness on his breath. “Good night, Eight,” he breathed.

His fingers pressed down, holding as his mind counted out the seconds. And as soon as he hit five, Eight’s body went limp in his arms. And everything in Jupiter went tense. Not wanting to look. Not wanting to see what he’d just done.

He pulled away, looking down. And Eight’s eyes were nothing but two black dots.


	5. unearth an insurgent’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Youngjae's names have been changed for this universe.

“Unearth an insurgent’s heart. Show NC that you aren’t just a bag of skin and bones to consume that Lark shit,” the radio crackled out so roughly it was almost inaudible. “This is your boy wonder disk jockey, Ars. Coming to you live from the Dust. And we are here to hear. Tune in to tune out. So bring on the medicine for your ears and your soul, this is magic hour.”

It was dark, even though it was morning by now. The Skyline, as Jupiter came to learn, wasn’t anything like the name suggested. It was one long tunnel. Miles of darkness enclosed with only fluorescent lights overhead. It was the only thing that got people in and out of the city. Bumper to bumper traffic, waiting in the lineup to the border. Radio signal inconsistent in the mass of concrete. The windows were cracked, making the whole car smell like exhaust and hot asphalt. 

In between Jupiter’s knees, he was tightly clutching onto his heavy backpack. Trying not to think about the early morning hours in which he hadn’t slept at all. In fact, it wasn’t till an hour before his imminent departure that he worked up the heart to dismantle Eight. And it had been just as dehumanizing and heart-wrenching as Jupiter had known it would be. Made his whole stomach feel nauseous and his chest burn with tears as he took him apart. Piece by piece. Unscrewing and untightening and detaching. It was enough to have him skipping the breakfast that his escort, who he’d come to find out was called Valencia, had offered him. And now, he was just trying not to remember it all. Trying to distract himself from the relentless imagery of it.

Over the radio, a song started to play. Loud and aggressive and quick. Singer screaming out the words like they hurt. Jupiter stared at the speakers, sitting up in his seat. “Hey,” he pointed, finger shaking. “T-those are the Rusty Guillotines!” 

Valencia looked over at him, raising a brow. “Who?”

“I have their CD!” Jupiter exclaimed. “What is this? What are we listening to?”

The man sighed, eyes falling back on the brake lights in front of him. “It’s SPRW.”

Jupiter stared at him, blinking.

Valencia caught the confusion in his eyes. “Surge Public Radio Waves. It’s the radio station that the Surge listen to for updates.”

Jupiter kept staring. “What’s the Surge?”

The man’s face fell, eyebrows turning down into a scowl. “Did your mother teach you nothing?”

And maybe it was a dumb question, but he was starting to tire of Valencia’s recklessly thrown insults. He looked away, sinking further down into his seat. “I’m starting to get that impression,” he murmured.

“The Surge,” Valencia started, leaning closer over the console. “Are the _insurgents_ who live in the Dust. They are trying to take back the city. In due time.”

Jupiter looked over at him, face drawing up in confusion. “Why do they want it?”

“We want to-” he stopped himself. “ _They_ want to free the city of Lark Industries iron grip. Bring down the walls between Nova and the Dust. Let the smog dissipate, the people be free, start anew. Without all the propaganda, the drugs, the corruption.”

“How are they going to manage that?”

Valencia sighed. “Any way they can,” he shrugged.

“So,” Jupiter looked at him. “I’m guessing you’re one of these _Surge,_ then?”

Valencia’s eyes darted over. “Maybe,” he said. “What’s it to you?”

Jupiter felt so fed up with his arrogance, his lack of empathy. “I just don’t know why an insurgent would be hauled up in the lap of luxury in the Glass District,” he raised an eyebrow. “Especially when your buddies are doing all the hard work in the Dust.”

“Maybe,” the man’s eyes widened, mocking. “I’m working from the inside.”

Jupiter glared at him, “Doing what?”

“Collecting intel. Sharing secrets. Hosting Surge that are passing through.” 

“How long have you been doing that?”

Valencia huffed. “Since before you were born, kid.” Just then, the car in front of him pulled past the border stop. He rushed to crank down the volume of the radio until it was silent. “We’re next,” he whispered. “So just shut up and leave the talking to me.”

They rolled up to the stop. On either side, Crows stood. And Jupiter had never even seen them from up close before. They wore black from head to foot. Largely tactical gear that was fitted to their frames. Their faces obscured by a black mask that covered their eyes, nose, mouth with vision and breathing tech. Just the perimeter of their faces showing through around it so that none of them could be distinguished from the others. Eyes so blackened out that as Jupiter stared up into one’s face, he found himself getting lost in the lack of features. Making them seem inhuman, all-powerful. 

Each Crow leaned into either rolled down window of the truck.

“Reason for departure?” the one at Valencia’s side through the grainy, static filter of the respirator.

“This is my godson,” Valencia smiled, beckoning to Jupiter. “Here are his papers,” he said, handing them over. “He’s visiting his aunt for a little while. She’s a protein miner out there. Bugs and grubs and shit. You know how those people can be,” he winked.

The Crow stared back behind the black of his mask. “Shame,” he murmured, looking down at the papers. A slight flash from where his eyes should be, like his cybernetics were filtering the information.

The Crow at Jupiter’s window cocked his head. “You listening to the music?” he asked. “Which station?”

Jupiter glanced over to Valencia, eyes going slightly panicked.

The man stared back, not even registering Jupiter. Just holding the Crow’s blacked out eyes. “Unclear,” he nearly hesitated. “You know how it is. Hard to get signal in the Skyway.”

“I asked what station,” the Crow said again. Any hint of a smirk beneath the filter of his voice getting nearly lost without seeing it. “Let’s have a listen.” And he started to reach in through the window, fingers going for the volume knob.

Jupiter felt the sudden panic rise up in him. Leaning down towards his backpack, he fished around in the front pocket before sitting back up. “CDs!” he exclaimed. “We were listening to my CDs.”

The Crow’s hand stopped, pulling back as he looked to Jupiter. Blank and silent. “My… aunt got them for me. From the Gas Ages. They have music on them.”

Valencia huffed from beside him. “Alright, kiddo,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “I think that’s enough.” He leaned closer to the Crow on his side. “Sorry about him,” he winced. “Still needs his morning meds.”

The Crow stayed still, before folding the papers up and handing them back. “Make sure he gets those when you get out there.”

Valencia took them, nodding and smiling. “Thank you, sirs,” he looked to both of them. “Have a wonderful day.”

They rolled up the windows, pulling forward past the border where the traffic went clear. Allowing them to pick up speed. Jupiter’s eyes trained on the side mirror where he could see the two Crows shrinking in the distance, their blackened masks still faced towards their car.

Valencia groaned, fussing fingers against his brows. “The last time I take a child, I swear-”

“I’m eighteen,” Jupiter sneered. “And I just saved our asses.”

“Unbelievable,” the man hissed, not even listening. “ Ruby must have had her hands full with you.”

“Ruby? My mom?” Jupiter questioned. He scoffed, “That’s not her name.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” Valencia said too firmly. “Now, for the love of God. Can we just listen to the radio? I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Fine by me,” Jupiter murmured, settling in to look out the window. To watch the concrete and fluorescent lights fly by in quick succession.

There were only a few more miles before Jupiter could spot the light shining brightly through the tunnel’s opening. He sat up in his seat, eye squinting as he felt some version of nerves well up in him the closer they got. At first, it was just blinding white, far too bright to see anything. But as they approached, Jupiter’s eyes got wider at the sight of a blue sky, a desert horizon, a long and empty road stretching for miles into the distance.

As soon as they were out, it was too much. Too much light, too much openness. It had Jupiter swiveling his head around, trying to take it all in through the squint of his eyes. Leaning over the dash to look up into the sky and see the burning white sun overhead, ignoring the dismissive huff from Valencia. And the sight of it all was wild and simultaneously everything he’d ever dreamed of while still being so much bigger, so much brighter, so much emptier than he could have ever imagined. He felt the smile pressing up against his mouth.

 _I can’t wait for Eight to see this,_ he thought before that smile fell a little. Eyes panning down to that bag between his knees, hand brushing down the side. _I’ll find someone, Eight. I promise._

They were a few more miles down the road before the truck pulled to a stop in front of a small building dotted with doors. _Motel_ it read in glass letters weaved with filament. Valencia killed the engine before getting out, walking up towards the entrance.

Jupiter rushed to follow, throwing his heavy backpack over his shoulder because he wasn’t about to take his eyes off of it. He chased his escort into the motel office. The Dust air feeling dry, hot in his lungs. Nothing like the acidic humidity of the city.

“Susanne,” Valencia smiled. “Great to see you. Been awhile.”

The older woman behind the desk smiled. “Hey, Val,” she leaned into her hand. “What Nova Rat did you drag in today?” She looked over his shoulder, meeting Jupiter’s eyes. “Oh,” her eyes widened. “A boy?”

“Yeah,” Valencia sighed. “Get him a room for the month.” He drew an envelope from his pocket, taking out a fat stack of bills and sliding them across the desk. “He’s gonna need it if he has any hope of fitting in here.”

“He’s just a boy,” Suzanne tutted. “Give him a break.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “He’s your problem now. Enjoy.” And with that he turned on his shoe, brushing shoulders with Jupiter as he went back outside.

Jupiter blinked, not understanding. He turned around following him out in front of the motel, watching him walk back towards his truck. Feeling the panic rise up in his throat. “That’s it?” he called out. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

Valencia didn’t turn around. “Good luck!”

“Where do I go?” he shouted, throwing his arms.

Valencia turned back, spreading his arms wide. “Anywhere you want,” he smiled, tightly. “That’s the beauty of the Dust.”

Jupiter shook his head, “I don’t know anything about this place.” 

“You’ll figure it out,” the man shrugged. “They always do.”

“What about my mom?” Jupiter asked. “How will she find me?” 

Valencia stilled, looking back at him. Losing that smug look for something harsher. He came closer. “Don’t you get it, kid?” he huffed. “She’s not going to find you. When the Crows take Surge, they don’t come back.”

Jupiter’s head spun. “But by mom’s _not_ a Surge,” he said, surely. “She owns a diner-”

The man's voice grew louder, impatient, “Your mom was Ruby Ring-”

“I mean she _had_ a ruby ring, but-”

“A spy. Just like me.”

Jupiter looked at him, everything falling quiet between them. The sun above even hotter. “That’s not possible,” he breathed.

Valencia rolled his eyes. “Why not?”

“My mom isn’t some spy,” Jupiter said, growing defensive. “She’s just a mom. She isn’t- She wouldn’t-”

“You think all those people that came in were just friends? Customers? All those people coming in and out of the Dust?” Valencia hissed. “All those conversations she booted you out of? Was it just catching up with old friends?”

Jupiter stared at him, remembering it all. The cast of characters and how different they were from anyone else in the city. The way they’d shoo him away. He hadn’t known anything but that. It was how it always had been.

Valencia took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “She was in charge of all the Surge activity in the Battery District. Nearly everyone of us who came through the city came through her.”

Jupiter couldn’t stop staring. All of it coming together. In the worst possible way. “She’s-” he whispered, voice and head weak. “She’s not coming, is she?”

“No chance in hell,” Valencia said. He looked around, putting a hand to Jupiter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, kid,” he said, managing to sound mildly sincere. “Time for a fresh start.” He pat the boy’s back, before walking on to his truck. He slammed the door, starting the engine and pulling away. Going back down the same road he came towards the city’s edge.

Jupiter stood there awhile. The vast emptiness feeling that much emptier. Nothing but the whistle of the desert wind skirting past his ears. And truthfully, he was too shocked to even process it. Because it was absolutely insane that in the span of less than twelve hours, everything he ever knew was gone. Everything was different now. And as the bag on his shoulder dug into his skin, all he could even think was one thing.

_Fuck. I need you, Eight._

He turned, going back into the motel. Meeting the eyes of the woman at the desk as she slid across a key. 

“103,” Suzanne smiled. “It’s the only one that manages to stay cool in the afternoon.”

He stepped closer, staring at her. Looking at the tan of her skin, the wrinkles that stretched across her brow, around her eyes. He’d never seen someone like that. Someone who had aged under the hot sun, without the addition of cybernetics that promised to extend your sight, your youth. He took a shaky breath, reaching for the key and holding it up. Watching it glint in the light. “I’ll just need the room for a night,” he said, softly.

She quirked a brow. “You sure?” she asked. “Val set you up for a full month. Enough time to get back on your feet. Find something more permanent.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I need to keep moving.” _Keep fighting,_ his mother’s words echoed in his ears.

The woman nodded, holding some doubt. “Okay,” she said. She reached behind the desk. “Take the rest then,” she said, offering him a stack of cash. “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” he said, pocketing it. “Question. Do you know where I could find an engineer?” 

Her eyes widened, “A what?” 

“An engineer,” he repeated. “Someone who works with machines. Preferably androids.” 

“My boy,” she smiled. “This is the Dust. You aren’t going to find that here.” 

He blinked. “At all?”

She shrugged, “Your best bet is a car mechanic or something.” 

Jupiter stood there. Feeling the weight of that bag. He swallowed. “Could you get me a list? Of every mechanic in the area?”

She huffed, shaking her head, “I’m not the yellow pages.” 

“The what?” 

She stared at him, pity leaking into her expression. She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

\---

Two months passed. And it was weird the way time moved. Slow in the lonely nights, the endless motels, the occasional dust storms that would make the millions of stars go dark and the motel lamps flicker. And Jupiter would sit, listening to the screech of wind and dust, looking over to an empty chair and imagining Eight there. Trying to recall his smile or his laugh or the subtle glow of his eyes. Not trying to think about him like a collection of metal in his backpack. The one he refused to open.

The days moved quicker. As soon as the sun came over the horizon, Jupiter was on the move. Trying to check off every single place on Susanne’s list. And the pattern was always the same. He would walk for miles and miles, sometimes managing to hitch a ride with a rough Samaritan. And when he would arrive at a shop, he’d wait and he’d wait because people in the Dust seemed to move slower. Treating time like some abstract force that gently ebbed and flowed them through their days. And when he finally managed to get a gruff mechanic across from him, he’d put the backpack on the counter and give his spiel. Trying not to give too much of his story away.

He would get tilted heads and raised brows and sour grimaces in return. Murmurs and dismissive hand waves. And Jupiter would plead and plead. Show them the money he’d kept. But they didn’t seem to care about money here. So they would stay firm and stubborn as Jupiter had found them all to be, before asking him to leave.

He couldn’t understand these Dust people. Their quirky dialect, their innate grit, their initial coldness that seemed to warm for only those closest to them. It was so different from anything he’d ever known before. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb, regularly getting called a _Nova rat_ by anyone who heard him speak, who heard about his problem. But he just ended up feeling lonelier and lonelier with each passing day.

He started getting desperate. Moving on to anyone he thought might be able to help. Getting referred to vending machine repair men and faulty electricians. Anyone who worked with any kind of machinery. Which is probably how he found himself in a pinball arcade arguing with the person behind the desk. A wall of neon colored rock posters from the Gas Ages staring back at him.

Jupiter sighed, trying to calm down. “I just need someone to put him together,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady.

The man crossed his arms over his chest, sucking on his teeth. “What model is it?” he asked, one brow raising.

Jupiter winced. Knowing what was coming. “An 84MX2.” 

The man choked out a laugh. “A pleasure model?” his eyes widened. “Hell no.” He scoffed, “I mean maybe if it was a vacuum or something. I mean, God. Do you know how complex those things are?” 

“Yes, I do actually,” Jupiter bit back. He caught himself. Again trying to simmer, hand carding through his hair. “Look,” he sighed. “I have money.” 

The man shook his head, “No amount of money is going to give someone the expertise.” 

“Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged, no empathy in it. “You’re better off selling the parts.” 

Jupiter stared at him, brows furrowed. Holding his tongue. Because after a few rougher encounters and a black eye, he found out that sometimes it was better to stay quiet.

He grabbed the backpack off the counter, throwing it over his shoulder and swiftly turning out. Briefly looking up to see the patrons nosily watching the scene. Their dust-soaked clothes and brightly colored hair. Mixtures of neon and denim and leather. Jupiter was so tired of it already.

He stormed out, walking down the storefront with bristled gruffness running through him.

“Hey, wait,” he heard from behind him.

Jupiter turned, meeting the eyes of one of the patrons. About his age, a little more, more svelte. It was hard to see past his bright red hair, the pretty tan of his skin, the greying denim that was ripped at knees, the red leather jacket that he kept on despite the heat. And the boy looked timid. Brows furrowed and lips twisting together. Thinking too hard about something as he looked at Jupiter.

“I overheard your conversation,” he finally said. Expression giving nothing away. “You need someone who can put it back together?”

Jupiter stared at him. He nodded. 

The boy shrugged. “Maybe I could take a look,” he said, coming closer. “I know a few things about electronics.”

Jupiter just kept looking. Unsure of how a boy that couldn’t have been more than twenty was equipped enough to be able to take on the job. Especially when no one had even dared try so far. But it was the closest he’d gotten in two months and there was no saying no. 

“Where’s your shop?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have one.” 

Jupiter narrowed his eyes, “You’re not a mechanic?” 

“Not exactly,” he said, withholding too much. Letting the silence spring up too many questions and curiosities that he seemed dead set on not answering. “Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

He started walking to a car parked in front of the arcade, bright red like everything about him. It was worn in, vintage, that seemed to have been patched over and fixed up. Jupiter’s eyes went to the top of the car seeing that it was covered in black glimmering solar panels. Ones he’d only seen from a distance in fields and fields of solar farmers out here.

Jupiter followed to the passenger side. And yes, he’d taken countless rides with strangers by now, but something about it still felt strange and unsafe. Especially when the promise of what the ride would hold was still uncertain. He sat in the passenger seat, closing the door and immediately feeling how narrow the car was. Feeling instantly too close to the strange brightly colored boy. Holding his backpack close to his chest like a shield.

The boy started the car. And the engine didn’t roar to life. Didn’t erupt with sound and vibrations. Instead it just started pulling out of the lot and turning down the road with no more noise than the whine of the tires on the asphalt.

“It’s electric?” Jupiter asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah.”

“Where did you get it?” he asked. “I’ve only seen gas guzzlers around.”

The boy shrugged, “I made it.”

And Jupiter just looked at him. Rendered a bit speechless. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a flicker of hope that he didn’t want to voice out loud. As if maybe he’d curse it if he did.

“So,” the boy started, hands twisting around the wheel. “This shiny is... your... friend?” 

Jupiter held the bag a little tighter. “I can hear when someone is judging me.” 

“I’m not,” the stranger immediately defended. Voice dropping down to a soft and low murmur that would have gotten lost in the sound of any other car but his. “I’m just wondering. He’s a pleasure model afterall. We ...hear things about them out here.” 

Jupiter looked away, eyes going to the road that stretched out in front of them. The endless curves that always seemed to go for miles. “Whatever you’ve heard,” he sighed. “He’s more than that.”

The silence stretched out for a beat too long. The stranger’s stony pensiveness so much louder than any engine could be. He licked his lips, keeping his eyes on the road. “We’ll see.” 

Jupiter looked out the window, trying to find anything to entertain his eye, but there was nothing except infinite dust. He cleared his throat, “The car. It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

“And yet, you’re not a mechanic.”

“I’m not,” the boy shrugged. “I don’t do cars. Other than my own.” 

Jupiter looked over, catching the nice outline of the boy’s face in the mid-afternoon sun. “What do you do then?”

“Electrical work,” he said flatly. “Solar mostly.” 

“You’re a solar farmer?”

“Was,” he said, a bit too clipped. Rushing to the word before sitting back, voice going deeper. “I’m not anymore.” 

“What are you now?” 

And there was another thought induced silence. The boy twisting his mouth like the words were just beyond, but he was holding them hostage. Not wanting to say it. 

Jupiter looked at him more closely, eyes skating from his red hair to his black dusty combat boots pressing into the would be gas pedal. And something about it felt familiar in a way it shouldn’t have. He drew in a quick breath, “What’s your name?” 

There was more silence, averted eyes, eyebrows knitting together. “Just call me Z.”

Jupiter’s face went stale. Everything in him dragging down into the seat momentarily. But just as quickly as it sank, he went hot. Burning down his spine in a straight line. 

“Pull over,” he said, too firmly.

Z looked over, grimacing instantly. “What?”

“I said,” Jupiter unlocked the door, opening it like a threat. “Pull over.”

Z screeched the car to a stop before Jupiter got out of the car, starting to walk with quick steps back down the road. Feeling that tight heat between his shoulders burning regardless of the sun overhead.

“What are you doing?” Z shouted after him, running to catch up.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jupiter spat, not looking. “I’m going back.”

“Why?” Z asked. He sighed, pulling for Jupiter’s shoulder, but not getting anywhere as he continued trailing him. “I’m trying to help you!”

“I don’t want help from your kind.”

Z’s footsteps stopped. Lingering behind him. “My kind?”

Jupiter looked back, watching him stand uneven on his combat boots. Eyes squinted in the sun, confused. “You’re a Surge,” he accused. “That’s why you’re not telling me your real name.”

Z was still, face going back to that pensiveness again. He shrugged, “What do you have against Surge?”

Jupiter erupted, magma pouring down in him in thick, smoldering waves. “Your cause?” he gritted out through nashed teeth. “Your dumb useless cause? _Killed_ my mother. Separated us. Got me trapped here where I don’t know anyone and _everyone_ looks down on me. I have nothing because of you all.” 

Z stared, eyes going rounder. Nearly soft. “Who was she?”

Jupiter sighed, ragged and broken. Looking down at the asphalt. “She was a spy. She owned a diner in the Battery District,” he said. “They called her-”

“Ruby Ring.”

Jupiter looked up. “You’ve heard of her?”

Z huffed, shaking his head, “Are you joking?”

Jupiter just looked at him, not understanding.

“Your mom was a hero.” 

Jupiter’s chest fluttered at the words. He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“She dispatched thousands of pieces of intel over the years,” Z said, corners of his mouth nearly pulling up into a smile. “She’s the reason why we’ve been able to keep the Crows from attacking us out here. From pushing the city’s boundaries any further out. We wouldn’t be free out here if it wasn’t for her.” 

Jupiter was still. Taking in the words. The heavy weight they carried that just added to his back. “She never told me anything,” he murmured into the desert wind. “I never even knew about the Surge until I got out here.”

“You know,” Z eased, putting his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Knowledge puts you at risk. As a spy, she knew that better than anyone. She was probably just trying to protect you.”

“Well, if her idea of protecting me was keeping me in the dark. Keeping me out of school. Away from anyone. Then, I guess she did her job,” he spoke out, tasting the bitter edge of the words on his tongue. Feeling the immediate guilt rise up alongside it. Because he didn’t even have any hope of his mother being alive, so why would he dare talk like this about her?

Z came closer, his dark eyes piercing from behind the red of his bangs. “She didn't want the city indoctrinating you,” he said, like he knew. “She didn’t want you to be another mindless pill popping Lark agent.” He came up next to him, staring down the endless road. “She wanted you to have a life that was yours.”

And Jupiter’s guilt doubled. Because he knew he was right. But it was so hard to see that sometimes when all he felt was the crushing weight of being alone, of being an outsider. He squatted on the ground, staring at the asphalt road between his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I’m just. I’m really alone out here.”

Z squatted down next to him. He reached out, hand hesitant. Hovering for a tentative second before smoothing down Jupiter’s shoulder, “And the one thing that can make it better is currently dismantled in your bag, isn’t it?”

Jupiter felt the dig of the straps. He briefly heard Eight’s laugh in his ears. “Yeah.”

Z sighed, standing up. “Come on. Get in the car,” he said, softly. “I can’t make any promises,” he shrugged. “I’m not a shiny engineer.” He extended his hand towards Jupiter. “But I promise you, I’ll try my hardest to put him back together for you.” 

Jupiter squinted up at him, sun behind his head. Red halo shining through. “You must really need the money.” 

He shook his head, “I don’t want your money.”

“Then, why are you doing this?” 

Z swallowed. “Because I know how empty the Dust can feel sometimes.”

Jupiter felt the sink in his chest. Knowing that was exactly what he felt. Lonely. After having so much closeness in the city. After having his mother and the diner and the patrons. After having Eight. And the irony didn’t escape him. That he’d spent years yearning for everything the Dust could offer. Everything he dreamed about. That open wide freedom that made his heart sing. But without someone at his side, it just felt so empty, so meaningless.

He looked up at Z. Seeing the tightness of his mouth, his brows. Something still so withheld in him. But he seemed different than the others Jupiter had met. Serious and motivated to see this through. And that little flicker of hope sparked again. He reached up, taking Z’s hand. Letting himself be pulled up.

It was a couple of hours of driving, the sun starting to sink too close to the horizon, before Z pulled off the road, bouncing over the dunes and the brush where there was no more asphalt. The whole car teetering until coming over a hill where a small little house sat. Thought maybe house was overselling it. Maybe it was more like a garage.

Z parked in front of it, getting out and going to the large garage door. Unlocking the metal padlock with a key before pushing up the door with his arms.

Jupiter got out, seeing the inside was one large room. The work tables, equipment, a few stray computer screens. Everything looking like tech from ages ago, all scattered about haphazardly. A half shredded couch in the corner. 

“Is this your place?” he asked, coming closer with slow steps. Ducking his head under the door.

“I just keep the essentials here,” Z said, clearing off a table with one big push. “Hunker down when the dust storms get bad.”

Jupiter’s eyes scanned the shelves along the walls. The hodgepodge of old tech equipment. Wires and cables and blacked out monitors and gadgets. “Where are you the rest of the time?”

“I’m on the road,” Z said, flicking on a light in the dimming dusk. “Driving from place to place. Doing things for the cause.”

Jupiter looked back at him, “What kind of things?”

“Whatever they need,” he said, taking off his red leather jacket and revealing a white tank beneath. He waved him closer. “Bring him here.” 

Jupiter came forward, depositing the bag on the table as gently as he could. Conscious of who was inside. He looked up seeing Z’s hesitant expression staring back. “What is it?”

“You might want to turn around,” he said, softly. A shine of pity in his eyes. “I have to take him out.”

“Right,” Jupiter nodded. He found a chair, facing it away from the table and taking a seat. And a moment later, he could hear the clatter of parts spill across the wood. And he didn’t want to picture it, relieve the night he’d had to dismantle Eight. His eyes searched for anything. Trying to distract himself. He spotted an old stereo on a shelf. 

“You have a CD player,” he noted, standing up and going towards it.

“I do,” Z nodded.

“Can I put on some music?” he asked. “I have some CDs in my bag if you want to hand them to me.”

Jupiter could hear him unzip the pockets, locating them. He came up behind Jupiter, offering him the small stack before turning back towards the table. Jupiter sorted through the plastic cases, trying to think about exactly what he needed right now to calm those frayed nerves that wouldn’t lay down right. He came across the King Cobra disk. The one him and Eight had listened to together. The one he sang for him. He pulled it out. Starting up the stereo and sliding it in.

And as it started to play, he thought about those mellow nights he’d listened from his bed. How it made the din of the city chaos feel a little more distant. And he dared to wonder if he missed those times. When everything felt so much simpler.

“I know this one,” Z said.

Jupiter had the reaction to turn, having to stop himself. “How would you know it?” 

“I have a friend,” Z said. “He is the radio DJ on the Surge station.”

“Ars?”

“Yeah,” Z said, the slightest hint of a smile in his voice. “You heard of him?” 

And even after listening to the station in the Skyway, Jupiter had periodically heard it playing in the background of car shops, motel offices, passing cars. “I have,” he nodded. “Kid has wicked good taste in music.” 

“You two should meet sometime.”

Jupiter sat back down in the chair, thinking. “He must be a Surge, then. Right?”

“Mhm,” Z hummed, the faint sound of a screwdriver twisting. Tiny metal clanks. “It’s Surge Public Waves after all.”

“How did he get that job?”

“Why? Are you interested?” he asked, and Jupiter could hear a tint of smugness in his tone.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m just… making conversation.”

“Ars was a legacy. His father was the station’s DJ before him. But he had a run in with some Crows in the city and didn’t ever come back.”

“So, his son took over.”

“Yup,” he sighed. “He’s been doing better than anyone expected him too. Though not a day goes by when we don’t miss hearing Great Shot’s voice over the waves.”

Jupiter felt a gasp of breath fill his lungs. “Great Shot?” he nearly turned again. “I-I know him.”

“Figures,” Z said, unimpressed. “He went into the city quite a bit for recon.”

Jupiter sat back, remembering sunglasses and tactical green. Raspy voice and warm embraces. Smuggled CDs in every shade of loud. “He was Ars’ father?” he asked, bewildered. “And he’s gone?”

“Ghosted,” Z corrected. “You know how it is. The Crows take people and you never hear from them again.”

Jupiter sat stewing in that loss. Thinking about it far too much. Hearing the music a little differently now. As if notes from beyond the grave.

“Sooo,” Z spoke, breaking up the music. “What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“Your shiny friend. Why is he in pieces?”

Jupiter sighed, mind spinning in a totally different direction again. “After my mom got taken, I got smuggled over the border. A man named Valencia? Another spy?”

Z scoffed. “I hate that guy.”

Jupiter smiled softly. “Glad I’m not the only one,” he nearly laughed. “Well, Valencia didn’t want me taking my friend with me. Said it would be too obvious at the border. So my friend told me to dismantle him.”

Z huffed, “I can tell you didn’t know what you were doing.”

A bit of panic rose up. “Did I hurt him?”

“Just a few scrapes at his joints,” Z said. “Nothing you’ll be able to see.” He continued to work, his fingers now tapping against a keyboard. “So,” he breathed. “How did you know I was a Surge?”

“Hmm,” Jupiter crossed his arms. “Was it the flaming red hair or how you never asked for my name? Or that you don’t have a real name?”

“I have a real name.”

Jupiter huffed, “It sure as hell ain’t Z.”

“Surge don’t exchange real names.”

“I’ve noticed. Everybody has their own little nickname, don’t they?” 

“It’s our culture,” he defended. “To become a Surge, you get a new name. It’s a sign of commitment. Loyalty.”

“So what,” Jupiter laughed. “You get a new name? Purge yourself of your old life? Forget the name you were even given?”

“No,” Z said, softer. “You hold onto it. Save it for someone special.”

“Someone special?” he questioned. “What? Like a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“More permanent than that,” Z said, tone serious. “A lifelong companion.”

Jupiter felt himself smile. Because it was the most tender thing he’d heard about these rough people. And he could see immediately how romantic it sounded. To only share that name with the person closest to you. “Who has your name?”

“No one,” Z said firmly. “I’d rather have it that way.”

And Jupiter was about to ask, about to pry when Z cut him off.

“Hey. When was your friend made?”

“He doesn’t know,” Jupiter answered. “His model is eight years old. But he doesn’t remember waking up.”

Z was quiet for a long moment. Too long.

“Z?”

“Is it possible he could have been made before that?”

Jupiter blinked, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Z sighed, “Hold on. Let me cover him.” 

Jupiter watched him walking into his line of sight. Take a blanket off the back of the couch in the corner. Heard him shaking it out, throwing it over the table.

“Come here,” he beckoned.

Jupiter got up, slowly turning around. He could see the blanket across the table. The rise and fall of it where it creased. He could nearly make out Eight’s limbs, his torso, his head. A thick cord running from under the blanket to Z’s computer. It made his stomach turn immediately. He walked slowly up to Z sitting on a stool behind the wide screen that stretched out in front of him.

“Look at this piece,” he said, extending out his hand. And in it was a little metal box, no bigger than the flat of his palm.

Jupiter took it, holding it up to his eyes. Across the front there was a little engraving. A series of numbers and letters.

“That’s his serial number,” Z said, pointing at it. “These four numbers at the end are the year he was made.”

“But,” Jupiter narrowed his eyes, looking up. “That was ten years ago.”

“Exactly.”

Jupiter looked down at it again. Studying it closer. “What’s the P there?” he said, pointing to the end of the number.

Z’s mouth went tight. “I have a theory,” he said. “But I’m not sure.”

Jupiter handed it back. “Tell me.”

Z took it in his hand, thumb feeling over the engraving. “It could stand for prototype.”

“You mean,” Jupiter blinked. “He could have been the first?”

Z shrugged, “You know more than I do.”

Jupiter’s shoulders fell. He had him thinking back to all the little details. How Eight never knew how or when he came to be. How he thought so much deeper than just the surface. How he could imagine things, create things. And how he knew it wasn’t normal, that he wasn’t normal. “Shit,” he breathed.

Z sat a little closer to the screen, “I was looking at his maintenance records. They do stretch back about eight years, like you said. But his first record was of being totally wiped. And there seems to be no trace of him before that.”

Jupiter looked to the screen, seeing lines of dates and text, but nothing about the rhetoric or layout of the information made any sense to him. It was like a foreign language.

“At the same time they wiped him,” Z leaned his chin into his hand, eyes scanning the text. “They put in this,” he held up the little metal box.

Jupiter took it again. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Z said, reading intently. “They refer to it as an _inhibitor._ But they don’t say what it’s inhibiting. But a lot of his maintenance records seem to refer to it.” He sat up, looking over. “I can tell you it doesn’t look factory made. That piece looks… I don’t know. Custom? Like they soldered it by hand.” He beckoned to the blanketed table, “And the way it was put into his head. You can tell it was added later.”

“Inhibitor,” Jupiter whispered, turning the piece over in his hands.

Z looked up at him, staring intently. “What are you thinking?”

“What if you leave it out?”

“What?” Z’s brows furrowed. “Why would I do that? I’m trying to put him back together.”

Jupiter bit into his lips, sighing. “Look. I don’t know what it’s inhibiting,” he shrugged. “But I don’t want him to be inhibited anymore.”

“You don’t understand how risky it is to start playing around with his head like that,” Z said, getting heated. “I mean who knows? This thing was sitting right next to his RAM.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he could wake up with _no_ memory. Of you. Of _anything._ ” he shook his head. “Like he was being born all over again.”

Jupiter hadn’t considered that. An Eight with no memory, being brought into this world like a newborn. But he couldn’t fight the feeling that _this_ world he was being brought into would be totally different from his prior one. Here, in the Dust, he could be free. He could live at Jupiter’s side in whatever capacity he wanted to. Even if it wasn’t what they had before. And Jupiter had a sinking feeling that whatever this piece was doing, it wasn’t going to make Eight truly free. He tightened his fist, feeling the corners of a piece sinking in. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

Z looked at him, eyes studying intently. Something sad there like he could read Jupiter’s thoughts. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he turned back towards his computer. “I’ll leave it out.”

Jupiter’s eyes went to the table, aching both at the hope that Eight would be back and at the fear that it wouldn’t be the same. But he told himself that it didn’t matter. As long as Eight was free. The way he deserved to be.

“It’s getting late,” Z said, looking out at the sky going navy beyond the garage door. He turned, waving towards the couch in the corner. “You should get some sleep.”

“No,” Jupiter shook his head. “I’ll stay awake. I’ll watch over him.” He perked. “Oh, he has this thing. Lark Industries makes it. Ambrosia? I have the label.” He dove into his pocket pulling it out. “It keeps his machinery running smoothly.”

Z took the label from his hands, “I’ll take this. I’ll go out and get what he needs if he wakes up.”

And Jupiter’s heart fluttered again with that desperate hope.

“But in the meantime, sleep,” he commanded. “I’ll wake _you_ up if I get anywhere. Promise.”

And Jupiter looked at him, seeing the good intentions that lie beneath the cold surface. He nodded. “Okay.”

\---

“Wake up.”

Jupiter jolted awake at the feeling of someone pushing against his shoulder. He sat up quickly. “Huh?” he grumbled, blinking his tired eyes. Watching bright red clear into the picture of Z staring back.

“Come on,” he beckoned. “Time to get up.”

Jupiter rubbed his eyes, groaning, “How long was I out?”

“All night,” Z said. “The sun should be up soon.”

“And?” Jupiter straightened his t-shirt on his broad shoulders.

“I finished,” he said. “At least, I think I did.”

Jupiter’s eyes drifted just past Z’s shoulder. And laying down against the table, looking like he was peacefully dozing, was Eight. Eyes closed and limbs attached. That mix of fishnet and vinyl. Jupiter noticed his platform boots hadn’t been put back on, leaving his feet exposed and making him look even more like he was simply dozing.

He stood up, taking shaky, nervous steps towards the table. Looking down at him. His chest quivering at the sight of his pale hair and his flawless skin and his sharp features. Handsome face just as beautiful as Jupiter remembered. He reached out, fingers tracing over the android’s temple where some plates aligned, the high of his cheekbones, bow of his lips. Feeling that tepidness he’d remembered. The lack of breath from his nose. It was so eerie. 

He looked up to Z who had come to stand across the table from him. “How do I-” 

“Same way you powered him down,” he said. And Jupiter could see that even in his firmness, he too had a hesitant edge to him. Like maybe he was scared this wouldn’t work.

Jupiter licked his lips. He let his hand curve around the back of Eight’s neck, fingers ghosting over those same tender spots on either side. Remembering exactly how they felt. Remembering the glow Eight’s eyes going black. And he wasn’t sure if he could take that again. But he had to try.

He pushed down on those two spots. “1…” he counted under his breath, eyes filling with tears. “2… 3… 4…”

Eight’s eyes shot open, silver glow so vibrant. Animating to life from head to foot.

Jupiter and Z both jolted, stepping back. Looking down at the table with wide, shocked eyes.

Eight looked over to Z, then to Jupiter. His stare holding. His mouth spreading into a smile. “Hey,” he said, softly.

Jupiter swallowed, stepping closer, leaning into the table. And God, he’d forgotten how beautiful he was. How bright he shined. “D-do you,” he stuttered around the words. “Do you remember me?”

Eight’s smile spread even further, crescenting his glowing eyes. “Of course,” he whispered. “My outlier.”

Jupiter felt his chest swell. He rushed forward, arms looping behind Eight’s back and pulling him in. Tears pouring down his cheeks as he cried into his neck. Shoulders shaking and shaking. Unable to hold himself together. He pulled away, looking at his face. His perfect, perfect face.

“How long has it been?” Eight said, studying him. Apertures widening. “Your hair is longer.”

“Two months,” Jupiter said, smiling through the tears. “H-how do you feel?” he asked, staring into his eyes. Brushing a hand over his hair. “Are you okay? Running just fine?”

He blinked, apertures adjusting. “My systems. They are offline,” he noted.

“We had to take you offline,” Z spoke up from beside the table. “Your systems were all Lark based. We don’t want to chance them being able to trace you.”

Eight turned towards the voice. “And who are you?”

“That’s Z,” Jupiter smiled. “He’s the one who put you back together.”

Eight looked him up and down. “You must like red.”

Z nodded, “I do.”

Eight looked around at the garage, taking it all in. “Where is this?”

“My workshop,” Z said.

“What district?”

Z looked over to Jupiter, quirking a brow.

Jupiter laughed, eyes still so wet. “We’re not in the city.”

Eight looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“Come on,” he said. “Let me show you.”

Eight followed him outside, where the sky wasn’t a cloudy, hazy black full of light pollution. Obscured by the rise of skyscrapers. No, it was a gorgeous navy. Dotted with stars so bright. As far as the eye could see, dipping down into an endless horizon.

Eight looked over at him, eyes wide and glowing in the darkness. “You made it!” he screamed, smile beaming. “It’s the Dust! Jupiter, you-”

“ _We_ made it,” he corrected, hands falling around his waist. “We did it, Eight. We are _free._ ”

“Oh, God,” Eight smiled. Closing his eyes. He leaned into Jupiter’s shoulder. “I’m so happy. I can’t-”

“I know,” Jupiter giggled, holding up his chin. And without the platforms, he noticed how he was now just a little bit taller than Eight. “I’m so happy, too.”

Eight looked up at him. Both of them so caught up in the moment. Eight shivered in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I thought the Dust was supposed to be hot. It’s freezing out here.”

“Let’s get you inside then,” Jupiter said, taking his hand and starting to drag him back inside. “I don’t want you to get-” but then he paused. Everything in him going still, stopped.

“Get what?” Eight asked.

“Eight,” he turned back towards him, brows knitting together. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” Eight said, shaking his head. “I’m just cold.” He studied Jupiter’s features a moment longer. But then, he too stilled. Face falling, eyes going wide. “I’m cold,” he whispered. He gasped. “Oh my god! I’m cold! I can feel it! I’m cold!” He pulled away from Jupiter’s arms, brushing his hands against the bare shoulders peeking from his tank.

Jupiter watched him, unable to think, to speak. Trying to collect his thoughts. “What else can you-”

Eight rushed towards him, hands going up to Jupiter’s face and pulling him in. Their lips coming together in the middle. And it was that same frantic brush of electricity that Jupiter had missed, the kind that had his heart thrumming to life. Feeling so alive and vibrant. And it was everything he’d missed and more.

Jupiter pulled away, keeping his face close, “Can you-”

“Yes,” Eight laughed, leaning in again. Kissing him again. And again. “I can feel it. I can feel everything.”

Jupiter’s smile hurt. He laughed too. Kissed him more too. “What’s it feel like?” he said, into the inhuman softness of his mouth.

“Perfect,” Eight whispered. “You’re warm and soft and you smell good and-” He leaned in, capturing his lips again. With increasing amounts of passion. “It’s so perfect.”

Jupiter heard the sound of a distant cough. He pulled away, looking over at Z standing a few feet away. Just past the garage door. His mouth tight with awkwardness as he slipped his red leather jacket back on. “Sorry,” the boy winced. “Don’t mean to interrupt. I was just… going to go out,” he beckoned to his car. “Get those supplies you’ll need.”

Jupiter looked to Eight. “I gave him the label from your Ambrosia can,” he said. “He’s going to try and make you something similar for you.”

Eight smiled, pulling away from Jupiter. He ran up, throwing his arms around Z’s neck and kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I owe you everything.”

Z’s eyed widened. The hint of a blush showing through in the dim light of the garage. He reached out, hesitantly patting Eight’s back. “It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Eight pulled away, looking at the insurgent. “How did you…” he smiled. “I can _feel._ ”

Z looked up, back at Jupiter. A speechlessness in his eyes.

Jupiter sighed, coming forward and pulling Eight away. “I can explain later,” he told him. “Just let the man go.”

Z cleared his throat again. “I’ll come back in a bit,” he told them, before heading to his car. Electric lights beaming silently as he reversed the car, threw it into drive and drove back towards the main road.

Jupiter turned, looking down to Eight. Coyly leaning in again to meet his lips.

But after a single kiss, Eight pulled away, grabbing his hand and dragging him back inside. 

Jupiter laughed, “What are you-”

Eight’s hands reached around, grabbing onto Jupiter’s ass and lifting him up around him.

“Oh,” Jupiter choked out, feeling the burn in his cheeks. Remembering how strong Eight was. And how he really, really liked it.

Eight toted him to the couch in the corner, sitting him down before straddling his lap. Smiling as his hands looped behind Jupiter’s neck, pulling him in again and kissing him even harder.

Jupiter kissed back, mouth falling open as his tongue trailed into Eight’s mouth. And he tasted that creamy sweet taste he’d dreamed about. Even better than his memory.

Eight’s hands smoothed down his chest, under his shirt, pulling it off. Splaying against his skin, his arms, middle. “I can’t stop touching you,” he murmured, biting down on his lip. “You feel so nice.”

“Fuck, Eight,” he whimpered, everything in him burning hot with desire. Body roaring back to life just to melt between Eight’s fingers. Sinking back into the couch as he felt Eight’s ass grind down against the hardening line of his pants. He groaned again.

“Can you believe it?” Eight giggled in his ear, lips and teeth against his neck. “You’ll be my first. The first one I feel.”

Jupiter shuddered, feeling it burn through him like a fever. “Good,” he whispered. “I can be your last too.”

Eight sat up in his lap, smiling. He reached down, fingers folding into the fishnet to pull it off. Bare pristine skin glistening in the low light of the worktable, making the most beautiful silhouette for Jupiter to admire. 

He ran his fingers up Eight’s sides, watching his smile widen in response. Knowing he was feeling it. He touched him gently, feeling at the metal skeleton of ribs below his taut skin. 

Eight shivered. “Oh,” he giggled. “That’s a lot.”

Jupiter pulled him closer, kissing his mouth. “You’re ticklish.”

“Is that what that is?”

Jupiter’s fingers trailed downward, smoothing up his thighs. Feeling them go tight under his grasp. He dug into his hips, his ass.

“Oh, that feels good,” Eight whined. “No wonder you humans like this so much.”

Jupiter laughed, biting his lip. “It gets better,” he whispered. He moved his hands into his lap, curving around his cock. Feeling it going hard under his touch. And damn, it made his mouth water with how much he wanted it. “How do you do this?” he whispered, looking down at the upward curve behind the exposed zipper of his pants. “You don’t have a heart.”

“Hey,” Eight pouted. “That’s not very nice.”

Jupiter laughed, knuckles rubbing up against him and feeling him just keep filling out. “I’m just wondering,” he shrugged. “You feel so… big.”

“Humans made me,” he gritted his teeth, glow in his eyes going smug. “You think they were going to skimp out?”

Jupiter clutched his fingers around Eight’s cock, feeling it fill his hand. “God,” he breathed. “I’m glad they didn’t.” He reached up, brushing his fingers against the zipper pull. “Can I?”

Eight smiled, “Please.”

Jupiter watched as he unzipped, watching the vinyl give way to the skin beneath, heavy cock spilling out into Jupiter’s hand. And wow, it was thick and long and made Jupiter feel hot all over. “Eight,” he whined.

The android laughed, “Don’t go stupid just from looking at it. I still have to put it in you.”

Jupiter whimpered again, melting into the couch. He felt Eight pull him into another kiss. He tightened his hand around Eight’s cock, fisting it firmly.

Eight’s thighs shook on either side of him, kissing him even more intensely in a way that had Jupiter knowing he could feel it. That he liked it.

Jupiter shifted on the couch, leaning down against the arm rest so Eight could hover over him. He fisted him again, hearing him whine into his mouth.

“Jupiter,” he groaned, leaning their foreheads together. “Come on.” He let his hands find Jupiter’s waist, deftly undoing his pants like he needed it. “Don’t be fucking cruel just cause it’s my first time.”

“Stop saying that,” Jupiter smiled. “You’ve had way more sex than me.”

“Yet you’re the one teasing me like I’m some distressed teenager!”

Jupiter looked up at him, beaming. He laced a hand around his neck, kissing him once more. “Find us some lube in here and I’ll stop teasing you.”

“Fine,” Eight laughed, pulling away. Pants nearly hanging off his hips as he started to look around. Glowing eyes painting down the shelves.

“Check the drawers,” Jupiter called, pointing over to a cabinet.

Eight rushed to them, starting to pull them open. Combing through them with inhuman speed. By the third drawer he was pulling something out. “Ah ha!” He came back towards the couch, tossing it into Jupiter’s lap.

Jupiter held it up to the light, seeing it was half full. He huffed, “And Z said he’d rather be alone.” He squeezed it out into his hand. “Wonder who he’s using this on.”

“I don’t care,” Eight gritted out, leaning over him again. “Just use it on me.”

Jupiter reached up, running it over Eight’s cock.

The android hissed, “Oh, that’s better.”

“Right?” Jupiter smiled. He pulled his hand away, pushing off his pants and kicking them onto the floor. “How do you want me?” he asked.

“Like this,” Eight’s eyes painted down his naked body. “I want to see you. Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.”

And Eight did, licking back into his mouth.

Jupiter felt Eight’s hand grip at his hip, squeezing before moving down to his thigh to squeeze there. Smoothing up the back of his leg and gripping around his cock. Sliding downward and toying at his entrance.

Jupiter felt those long fingers exactly where he wanted them, arching up at the touch. He felt Eight slicking up his fingertips before they returned, circling his hole before he carefully sunk one down into him.

Jupiter was transported back to the Battery District. To the feeling of those electric fingers moving in him like the most wonderful static in the world. His brain went fuzzy at his touch as he started to move inside of him. And Jupiter just felt himself falling so open, so trusting of anything Eight was willing to give him.

Eight sunk another finger in, making Jupiter cry out beautifully. Arching up into him and opening his eyes. Looking into the silver glow of his eyes and the vivid bright white of his smile. Feeling that static energy rush up his spine to the top of his head.

“I want to feel you,” Eight whispered. “I want to feel how good you feel.”

Jupiter bit down on his lip, maneuvering Eight’s fingers deeper into him. “Please,” he pleaded. “Give it to me.”

Eight pulled his fingers away, running them against his slick cock for another second before lining it up to Jupiter’s entrance. Feeling so thick and heavy that Jupiter could feel himself aching with anticipation.

When Eight shoved in, it was fireworks in Jupiter’s eyes. From so much more than just the pleasurable sting, the size, the girth. From the way he felt so filled, the electricity vibrating through him. Tickling at every single nerve and making him shake.

And it was consolation enough that Eight was shaking too. “Oh fuck, Jupiter,” he moaned. “You’re so tight.”

Jupiter looked down, watching Eight draw back just to shove back in again. Watching his hips quiver, his cock spill messy pre-cum against his stomach. “Don’t stop,” he said, looking back up into blown out apertures. “Please. Don’t stop.”

Eight nodded, fighting through the new feeling as he leveled out the rhythm of his hips. And it was nearly mechanical, the way he could steadily keep the pace with ease. Biting down on his lip as he watched Jupiter’s face.

And God damn, he’d thought the sex was amazing last time, but knowing that Eight was feeling it? That made everything feel ten times better. Feel like that electricity exchange was some open circuit, the sensation oscillating between them as he moved.

Jupiter started getting greedy, hips meeting Eight in the middle just to feel him deeper, quicker. Watching his face tighten, the blacks of his eyes widen, his pace pick up. And all the while, he could see it playing out on the android’s features. The play between knowing exactly what to do, but being so overwhelmed by the new sensation.

“How is it?” Jupiter smiled.

“It’s-” Eight swallowed. “It’s fucking amazing. How do you all keep from doing this all the time?”

Jupiter laughed, feeling Eight hit something in him that made the laugh turn to a loud moan. “We can do it as much as you want,” he panted.

“I think I’m getting close,” Eight whimpered.

“What’s it feel like?”

“Like if I stop, I’ll die.”

“Good thing you can’t die.” He licked his lips. “Fuck me harder.”

And Eight did, brows furrowing and teeth hissing and pretty lashes fluttering.

And Jupiter could feel just how close he was, they both were, so he pulled him in again. Kissing him hard. And it felt wild, that rush of electricity becoming a closed circuit between their hips and their mouths. The static running in one thrumming loop through both of them. Buzzing louder and louder in Jupiter’s ears until-

He felt himself spilling across his stomach, harder than he ever thought he could. And nearly in tandem, he felt Eight’s hips stifle, his groans muffle. Filling Jupiter up with something of his own. And even in his dumb, climax-rattled brain, Jupiter was wondering if it tasted just as sweet as his kiss. Promising himself he’d find out the next time they did this.

Eight pulled away looking into his eyes. No heavy breaths in his chest, just a smile spreading wide across his face. “Wow,” he whispered. “That was…”

Jupiter huffed through a heaving chest, “Pretty good for your first time.”

Eight laughed, falling into his chest, curling up in his arms. “Your heartbeat,” he smiled into his skin. “It’s wild.”

“It’s yours,” Jupiter said, tightening his grip on him. “All of me is yours.”

Eight looked up at him, staring fondly. Moving a piece of hair from his sweaty forehead. “Now that we got that out of the way,” he smiled. “Tell me everything. What did I miss?”

Jupiter laughed, feeling his breath evening out. His muscles easing. “A lot.”

And so as Jupiter came down from his high, he told him. About Valencia and the Skyway. Susanne at the motel and the many motels after that. The long, starry night and the dust storms and the endless days of checking off mechanics from his list of mechanics, one by one. How he stumbled upon Z on total accident and how he’d been so willing to help. About the serial number and the maintenance records and the inhibitor they’d thrown away.

“Z’s a Surge,” Eight whispered, like it was on the tip of his tongue. “I know about them.”

Jupiter blinked. “How would you know about them?” he asked. “I didn’t even know about them and one birthed me.”

Eight giggled, so cute and amused. “Sonata loved them,” he said, eyes glowing softly. “She loved anyone trying to stand up to her husband.”

“Sonata?” Jupiter whispered. “Wait Sonata Lark?” he sat up. “As in Night Lark’s wife? You knew her?”

“Of course,” Eight nodded. “She was my creator.”

Jupiter stared at him, piecing it together. “That’s who you drew, wasn't it?”

Eight’s eyes defocused, realizing. “I guess it was,” he murmured. “It all felt so fuzzy before. Only small flashes, feelings. But now, it’s so clear. I can remember it all.”

Jupiter’s hand drifted up Eight’s chest, his neck, pulling his face closer. “What was she like?”

“She was,” Eight’s eyes stayed dreamy, distant. “Brilliant and beautiful and kind. An amazing mother,” he laughed. “She was my best friend.”

“Her husband must have been the worst for her to make herself a pleasure model.”

Eight laughed, shaking his head, “I wasn’t supposed to be a pleasure model. None of the 84MX2’s were.”

Jupiter tilted his head, “Then, why did she make you?”

Eight put a hand to Jupiter’s chest, pushing him back down and nestling into his neck, kissing the skin there. “She was pushing the boundary of what we could be,” he murmured. “Trying to make something entirely different. Something almost human.”

Jupiter laughed at the tickle of his words. “Well,” he said, pulling his face up to look in his eyes. “I would say she more than succeeded, making you.”

Eight smiled wide, eyes glowing brighter. “I was the prototype. She woke me up. Made me an extension of her team, her family,” he remembered, nostalgia sweeping over his handsome features. “I remember her kids. The oldest sister was so smart, just like her mother. And the boy. His name was Shadow. He was the cutest little boy you’ve ever met. A dimple in his cheek. Nose always in a book. So sweet.”

“You took care of them?”

“I did,” he nodded, full of pride. “I loved them like they were my brothers and sisters. It was wonderful.”

“Until?”

Eight’s smile staled, dropping a little. “Her husband didn’t know about me,” he whispered.

“Night Lark?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “He didn’t want androids to be as advanced as me. He wanted to keep them in his control. Just like the city, the people. I heard them fight about it so many times. Heard him hurting her, threatening her. So, she worked on me behind his back. Because she knew what our model could be. A gateway towards a more equitable society. Opening the door for everyone to be valued, for everyone to have the same rights.”

And Jupiter’s heart sank in his chest. Feeling like he was holding in his arms some beacon of all that could be right in Nova City. Seeing all that passion that Eight carried around finally having a place to go to. A higher purpose. And it was beautiful because it validated so much of what Jupiter knew to be true. That Eight was special, that he was meant for more. But it also made him sad, to see that Sonata hadn’t succeeded in every way she had hoped. He hesitated around the question, “When did she get sick?”

That hope in his eyes dissolved, dimmed. He swallowed. “She didn’t,” he murmured. “It was all faked. By Night. He killed her.”

Jupiter’s chest stirred with panic, “You saw it?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he shook his head. “I was taking care of the kids, but we could hear them fight in the next room. And the middle daughter, she snuck out of my eyeline. She wanted to go stop it. I went to try and get her. Keep her safe. But we both saw. Night had his hands around Sonata’s throat. And the light from her eyes,” he flickered, remembering. “It was gone. She fell to the floor. And that was it.” Eight went quiet, solemn. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “It’s just. I’m watching it. I haven’t had access to those files in years.”

And Jupiter wanted to tell him to get out of there, stop reliving it. But Eight deserved to see, to relive it if that’s what he wanted. “What about the kids?” he whispered, pushing the hair from his face. “The news said they went missing at the same time Sonata died.”

Eight shook his head, “I have no idea what happened to them. For all I know, Night Lark could have killed them too.”

His eyes widened, “His own kids? His heirs?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” he shrugged. “He’s evil, Jupiter. When he found out what I was, he had me wiped. Handed all of my specs over to their new team and started mass-producing 84MX2’s. But they weren’t the same anymore, not like me. They’d been dialed back. Made more obedient. They took away their ability to feel. Anything to make them perfect little well-behaved sex bots.”

“And they tried to inhibit you,” Jupiter realized. “Throw you back in with the rest of them. As if you were just another mindless bot.”

“They did,” he nodded. The corners of his mouth going up at the corners ever so gently. “But they didn’t see you coming.”

Jupiter’s heart swelled in his chest. “It wasn’t me,” he shook his head, modestly. “It was Z.”

“Z the insurgent,” Eight laughed. “Just like your mom.”

Jupiter huffed, “Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Pretty badass,” Eight beamed. “Explains you though, doesn’t it?”

“How so?”

“All that fight in you. All that heart,” he said, finger circling the center of his chest. “You got it from her. From the cause. Without even knowing it.”

Jupiter looked back at him, so entranced. Smiling softly. “Maybe,” he whispered.

Eight put his chin to Jupiter’s chest, staring up at him with big soft eyes. “I feel bad,” he pouted.

“Why?” Jupiter asked, touching his cheek.

“That you had to wait,” he said. “To me, it was just a little nap. But for you, it must have been a nightmare.”

Jupiter’s mouth went flat. Not able to see those two months at all. Not with Eight shining so brightly in front of him. “It felt like one long dream,” he said. “Where I was alone. And I missed you. More than anything. And I did whatever I could to get you back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he shook his head. “I’d live that dream a thousand times if it meant I could get you back.”

Eight smiled, leaning up onto his arms and coming closer. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Jupiter giggled, heart fluttering in his chest. “What’s that feel like?”

Eight smiled, so brilliant. “Perfect,” he said. “Really perfect.” He leaned in, kissing Jupiter so warmly. Melting between his arms.

“I love you too,” Jupiter murmured in the space between kisses. 

Eight looked over to where the garage door was still open, seeing the flat line of the horizon. The peek of sunrise flooding the endless sand in a warm glow.

“Wow,” Eight whispered. “That’s the sun.”

And Jupiter stared at him, seeing all the wonder in his eyes. Knowing it was a brand new day.

\---

“Now, it’s not quite the same as what you had before,” Z said, morning light pouring from behind him as he mixed together a mess of chemicals into a plastic cup. “But I think it should be a good enough substitute to keep you running smoothly.” He handed over the cup.

Eight took it, staring down into the milky mixture, before taking a sip. “Oh my god,” he grimaced, smacking his lips. “I can taste it now. Oh, fuck,” he coughed. “That’s awful.”

One side of Z’s mouth tugged upward in an unwilling smile . “You’ll get used to it,” he said, hitting his shoulder.

Eight took another sip, wincing again. “Thanks, doc,” he tried to smile through it. “Again, I owe you everything.”

“Stop,” Z shook his head. “Here,” he said, handing over the written recipe to Jupiter. “So you can get the supplies for him when he needs it.”

Jupiter took it, slipping it into his backpack and zipping it up. “Thank you so much, Z,” he said, slinging it back onto his shoulders, lighter than it had ever been. “Seriously. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to,” he waved him away. He brushed his hands down his pants. “Well,” he said. “Do you two want a ride into town?”

Eight drained the last of the Ambrosia, swallowing it all with a sour face. “Where do we go now?” he said, licking his lips.

“Wherever you want,” Z shrugged. “I’m not your new possessor.”

Jupiter looked at the insurgent, tilting his head. “Where will you go?”

“I have things to do,” he said. “For the cause.”

Eight stood up from his seat, coming closer to lean into Z’s space. “Maybe we can help,” he suggested cheerfully.

“Hey,” Jupiter said, grabbing his shoulder. “He doesn’t want us-”

“You two?” Z huffed, amused. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you have to offer?”

Eight spread his arms wide, “I’m the only android of my kind. No big deal.” He beckoned to Jupiter. “He’s the legacy of a Surge spy with killer taste in music,” he smiled. “Oh, and he can cook!”

Z stared, sharp brown eyes and furrowed brows darting between them. He held his breath for a long moment, holding all that withheld pensiveness. 

“You don’t have to take us in,” Jupiter shook his head. “I know you’re pretty into your whole lone wolf thing. Would hate to disturb that.”

Z’s mouth twisted together in thought. He let out a long sigh. “Come on,” he called, turning towards the car.

Eight looked back at Jupiter, a mile wide smile pressed against his handsome face. 

Jupiter couldn’t help but smile too, taking his hand. Fingers lacing tightly together as they started to follow behind.

Z looked over his shoulder, desert wind ruffling his red hair. “You’ll need new names though.”


End file.
